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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25255870">The Witch's Contentment</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flowyen/pseuds/Flowyen'>Flowyen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Consul [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Arcana (Visual Novel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Court Magician Reader, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Other, POV Second Person, Pre-Canon, Slow Burn, Valerius is soft, Valerius just calls you a witch the whole time, canon if you squint, chapters get longer as the story progresses, it's kinda endearing, no pronouns</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:07:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>21,100</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25255870</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flowyen/pseuds/Flowyen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You, the recently appointed Magician of Vesuvia, value the small things in life - flowers, rainstorms, stars, rarities in your line of work. In addition to your rather taxing courtly duties, however, a particular Consul seems to take endless pleasure in exercising his sarcastic and cruel tongue at your expense - although somehow, you don't really seem to mind. In fact, if you didn't know better, you could say that the man might just be growing on you.  If only you could figure out how to understand each other.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Apprentice/Valerius (The Arcana), Valerius (The Arcana)/Reader, Valerius (The Arcana)/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Consul [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1890388</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>127</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>202</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Staring at the Flowers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The violets look so pretty in their vase, their purple petals blooming outwards and sending a soft fragrance permeating through the air. You’ve been admiring them for quite some time, standing aimlessly in the entrance hall with your hands clasped neatly behind your back, your body inclined forward to study them better, to memorize their details. There is a tall mirror behind the vase, allowing you to see the back of the bouquet as well as the front, and you take your time in viewing it in all its glory.</p>
<p>“Having fun admiring yourself?” A clipped, nasal tone drawls, pulling your attention away. </p>
<p>“Consul Valerius,” you smile, a slight bow to your head out of customary respect. “I was studying the violets, you see. They’re quite lovely.”</p>
<p>Your voice is calm, even. Perfectly truthful. You had barely even noticed your own reflection in the mirror - it didn’t seem important.</p>
<p>His golden eyes, cool despite their warm color, dart to the vase, doubtfully. “They’re only flowers,” he scoffs before turning away, the red wine sloshing in his glass. “Nadia wants to see you,” he calls on his way out, barely bothering turning over his shoulder to relay the message. You send your thanks after him as you hasten to the meeting room where you’d last seen Nadia, ready to help with whatever task she has for you.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Lost in the Grandeur</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You’re late. </p>
<p>You’re so very, <em>very</em> late, and there’s a rather important meeting, to attend, but you aren’t even sure if you’re on the right floor. All the corridors start to look the same to you in your mild panic, marble halls stretching on forever without end. You dodge busts, tapestries. No people, no servants. No one to ask for help whatsoever, until-</p>
<p>“Are you slacking off?”</p>
<p>You freeze in your tracks, recognizing the voice, and spin to find its source.</p>
<p>“Consul Valerius - would you believe me if I confessed to being hopelessly lost?”</p>
<p>You can feel the earnestness on your face, the upward tilt to your brows, the slight flush to your cheeks from both nerves and exertion. Something is written in the sneer of his own expression, though what it is precisely you cannot say.</p>
<p>“You must truly come from humble origins if you are incapable of navigating the second floor.”</p>
<p>You know he means it as a barb, as something biting to intimidate you just as he does the other courtiers, but he picked the wrong thing to demean you by. </p>
<p>“I do, in fact,” you reply almost cheerily. “My little shop and apartment are quite a bit smaller than this place, and before that I lived in a little country cottage. I’m afraid all the grandeur is rather lost on me, just as I seem to be rather lost in it.”</p>
<p>Valerius just stares at you for a long moment, taking in your appearance, no doubt. You get the sense that he enjoys watching you squirm. After a while he sighs, turns on his heel.</p>
<p>“It’s the door flanked by the mermaid statues on your right. If you keep going down the hall you can’t miss it.”</p>
<p>He’s rounded the corner before you can even process what he’s said, but sure enough, as you half-sprint down the hall, you see the mermaids and open the door, finding some lesser courtiers gathered around a table, chatting in good spirits. No one seems to notice you as you slip in what you realize was actually a sort of “back door” to the treaty room. A few moments later, Nadia emerges to appropriate fanfare from a set of intricate double doors flanked by <em>Valerius</em>, of all people. </p>
<p>Along with everyone else in the room, you bow your head to the Countess, and you look up just in time to see Valerius’ eyes snag on yours while he does a lazy sweep of the congregation. He’s moved on in a second, face a perfect show of utter indifference.</p>
<p>You all take your seats, and as talk of new treaties and improvements to the city commence, you nearly forget the strange encounter entirely.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Rain at the Window</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You stare at the window from inside the study, perfectly content to watch the rain patter against the windows and taking a much needed reprieve from the loud, boisterous chatter of the meeting in the room next door. You’d done your part, advising on the best ways to use magic to help with detecting fraudulent trading goods in order to ensure the highest income, and when your advice no longer seemed necessary, you managed to slip away without any notice. <em>Well</em>, you think as you hear the clicking of heels against the parquet floors behind you, <em>almost unnoticed</em>.</p><p>You don’t turn to face whoever has joined you in the study, not until they sigh and slide into a nearby chaise, an action so informal that you cannot help but think Asra or Julian has managed to sneak up behind you instead of a much more likely palace courtier. </p><p>“Consul Valerius?” You inquire, seeing a somewhat familiar braid instead of the white or red tresses of your better acquainted friends and not bothering whatsoever to hide your surprise.</p><p>Valerius <em>bolts up</em> and out of the chair, whirling around to find you with a rare look of shock. Apparently, he’d not noticed you on entering the room. The shock gives way to a look of bitter resentment a moment later, and he straightens his robes indignantly. </p><p>“I didn’t expect to find a lurking witch here,” he hisses, barely managing to sound bored.</p><p>You shrug, not really minding his company or his tone. You expect him to leave soon anyway - he never spends much time around you. “I came to listen to the rain,” you say, turning back to the window. “I enjoy the sound of it.”<br/>

Valerius gives a snort and crosses his arms, careful not to spill the rather full glass of wine also in his possession. “Is that a witch thing?”</p><p>You can’t help but laugh. As much as you might want to tease Valerius back, seeing as you so clearly managed to take him by surprise and would therefore have the upper hand, something tells you that firing off with an equally snarky retort will give him too much satisfaction. Further, it would give off the impression that he’s managed to offend you, slightly, when in reality you couldn’t care less that he calls you a witch, even if it is a rather antiquated term for your practice. </p><p>“No,” you reply, leaning closer to the window and brushing aside the curtains. “I imagine it’s a peasant-used-to-living-in-a-cottage thing.”</p><p>He goes quiet again, apparently unsure how to respond. “If you liked being a villager so much, what with the rain on the windows and violets in notably short and uncomplicated hallways, how on earth did you end up here?”</p><p>You shrug. “I’m not really sure. I imagine word of my particular skills traveled far enough to reach the Countess, and liking what she found, she offered me a position.”</p><p>“You mean you didn’t have to scheme your way up? Casually curse a few contenders, make sure they didn’t get in your path?”</p><p>You fix him with a look of bewilderment, and to your intrigue, finds that he almost shrinks away. “No. Why, is that what you’ve heard?”</p><p>Valerius takes a measured sip from his glass. “No one makes it here without breaking a few necks in the process. Skill never has anything to do with it, unless your particular talent is getting rid of competition. Or finding... other ways to stand out.”</p><p>A crack of thunder in the distance. He won’t meet your gaze. You stand a little straighter, your shoulders squared. “Well then, perhaps you should find some better talents.” You see him stiffen a bit as you make to leave the room, the rain no longer interesting you. “After all,” you add, lingering at the door. “One can last only so long on talk alone.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Balcony Banter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The night breeze is cool on your face, kissing away the flushed heat of the ballroom as you stand on a deserted balcony, catching your breath and taking in the view before you:  Vesuvia, sprawled out like a lover laid bare and twinkling in candlelight, shining under a warm indigo sky speckled with tiny, dancing stars who seem to be as much of a casual observer of the world as yourself. </p>
<p>“I’ve never liked formal balls,” someone tiredly says to your left. You hadn’t even noticed them approach. </p>
<p>Consul Valerius stands a few feet away. Out of view from the rest of the party, his elbows rest on the balcony ledge same as yours, his hands toying with a half empty glass held recklessly over the edge. He looks at you indirectly, through the corner of his eyes, as if he were trying to pass off his statement as something private. Trivial. Not for you to answer. </p>
<p>You turn to him, studying. “You look nice,” you say, meaning it. His hair, done up in a braid a little more complex than his usual, simple style, hangs in a loop down his back, starting and ending in the same place at the base of his skull. His clothes suit him, and are in a slightly darker color scheme, complimenting the gold in his hair and blending him into the nightscape before you. </p>
<p>“You look…” he falters for a moment, and you can’t decide if it’s because he’s at a loss for a complement, off put by yours, or just slightly more drunk than he typically is. “You look less provincial than usual.”</p>
<p>He clears his throat at the end of it, and once again, the consul can’t help but make you laugh. </p>
<p>“I should hope so,” you manage after your mirth dies out on the breeze. “But then again, I’ve never really been one for balls either, so I’ll have to take your word for it. There are too many political undertones. Summer festivals where I can dance in a field until the sun comes up over the horizon are much more my cup of tea.”</p>
<p>“You dance?”</p>
<p>“I doubt you would consider my humble peasant’s twirling as <em>dancing</em>, Consul,” you smile, picturing yourself running around a great maypole with streamers in your hand. </p>
<p>He shrugs, though he makes no further commentary on the matter. It’s as if dancing is not one of the many topics with which he is graced with endless knowledge, not like palace budgeting or sarcasm. </p>
<p>“I used to be more involved in the politics,” he admits a moment later. “I still am, of course. Avidly, to some extent. The dancing and the food, it’s all a rather gaudy front. Ease the traveling diplomats into a sense of security before tomorrow’s negotiations, keep the commoners who managed to garner an invite placid. Not that you’d care particularly about any of those underpinnings, I’m sure.”</p>
<p>“Just because <em>I</em> don’t partake in the politics, Consul, do not think me ignorant to the games <em>you</em> are so adept at playing.”</p>
<p>Valerius looks at you with a tilt to his head, a thought in his eyes that you can’t quite read. “<em>My</em> games?” He takes a step closer. “Do tell me, witch. What <em>exactly</em> do you accuse me of?”</p>
<p>You stand your ground, looking up at him  from where you’ve been reclining against the balcony yourself, trying so hard to keep the same rational front he always manages to uphold.</p>
<p>“Feigning boredom,” you begin lightly, keeping a tally on your fingers. “Misdirection, a rather caustic tongue. All well and good for brokering deals, don’t get me wrong, but I suspect that to balance it you must also play a game of flattery. Though, your previous remarks to me seem to prove that particular aspect of you wanting, at least on my account. Which leaves…” you trail off, letting your eyes rake over his rather fit, elegant form. A half-formed rumor floats to the top of your memory, and the last piece of the puzzle clicks. “Seduction.”</p>
<p>His face, which had previously been set in a sort of neutral speculation, contorts into a pale fury at the word, confirming your suspicions of his past, perhaps even his climb to power. After all, it <em>is</em> unusual for someone so young to hold such an influential position in the government. </p>
<p>“I did not come here to be mocked,” he spits, making to leave. </p>
<p>“No?” you call to his back. “Then what <em>did</em> bring you out here? You had to have seen me this time.”</p>
<p><em>Had he been… looking for you?</em> Valerius doesn’t answer, opting to storm back into the ballroom instead. You watch him disappear into the throngs of people, and decide that another game of his must be trying to figure people out. </p>
<p>You realize, with a tiny burst of satisfaction as you look out over the city once again, that he seems to be having a difficult time getting a read on you. You aren’t really sure why, but the thought makes you smile.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Caught in the Hedge Maze</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As the weather warms, the sky is more often than not filled with rain clouds, though it barely ever actually rains. Since you enjoy the stormy weather, the humid air and the gusts of haunting wind that pull at your clothes and your hair, you find yourself taking walks through the gardens to think, ignoring occasional, distant thunder. Usually you can time it so that you’re back inside the palace before any real water falls from the sky. In fact, you pride yourself on it, attributing the sixth sense to your own personal brand of attuned magic. </p><p>It’s all well and fine, of course, provided that you know how to get back to the palace before it rains, which is something that on this particular day has eluded you as you find yourself hopelessly lost in the hedge maze just as a few fat drops splatter across your shoulder. Cursing yourself and your wandering mind, you gather up your finely draped palace clothes, and start to run through the maze with an almost reckless abandon as you try and make your way out before the brunt of the storm hits. </p><p>Beneath your feet, the neat grass pathways turn to mud, coating the hem of your clothes and flecking up to your knees as you splash about. By the time you find the exit, the rain has begun to fall in earnest. When you finally make it to the palace, you stumble over the french door flanked threshold absolutely soaked, but with the biggest smile plastered across your splotchy face, chest heaving against your tight garments with exertion.</p><p>Only to find Valerius standing before you with his lips slightly parted. </p><p>It really was just your luck. </p><p>“Do I even want to know what happened?” he asks, eyes trailing your whole personage from the mud that has managed to splatter all over you to your wild, dripping hair. </p><p>“I got lost in the hedge maze.” You step forward a bit, noting that there are already several trails of muddy footprints leading into the palace and that you won't be creating more work for the servants by adding some of your own. </p><p>“You can’t just… I don’t know, turn off the weather or something? Dry yourself off?”</p><p>“The flowers need water,” you shrug. “And besides, you know I like the rain.”</p><p>He looks absolutely appalled. “But you’re a <em>mess</em>.”</p><p>You stop walking, realizing that for each step forward you take, he takes a step back, away from you and the dirt and all the undignified filth. </p><p>A grin breaks out on your face. “Yes, I am. A very <em>happy</em> mess, thank you very much. You should try it sometime, take a break from that perpetual sneer of yours.” </p><p>You stare each other down in the hallway, the sounds of the storm picking up behind you as you wait for him to crack first. </p><p>“Look,” he sighs, suddenly fixating his eyes very pointedly on your forehead. “I enjoy our little spats as much as anything else, but could we possibly continue it when you <em>aren’t</em> wearing something so… wet?”</p><p>You look down at yourself, confused, only to find your pale palace attire stuck to your figure and made transparent by the rain. In any other circumstance, you might have been embarrassed - if Nadia had walked by and found you, you would have covered up and ran for the hills. You aren’t really sure what’s so different about running into Valerius instead, but your hands find their way onto your hips as you sink your weight to one side, a different kind of smile on your smirking lips. </p><p>“Am I <em>distracting</em> you, Consul Valerius?”</p><p>To your utter delight, you catch a bloom of color on his cheeks before he turns away, yelling something about “propriety and public decency” over your cackling laughter.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Late Night Gossip</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You’re all exhausted. </p>
<p>The representatives from Hjalle were adamant that their trade agreement not change. One of the farthest territories from Vesuvia, they brought southern goods that were difficult to attain otherwise. Conversations have been held back and forth for hours, facilitated by your conduction of a water portal for them to communicate with from their home territory. By the time the sun sets, nothing has been agreed upon, and you are just about to collapse from the immense strain that keeping the portal operational places on your magic. </p>
<p>“Perhaps we can continue this discussion in the morning,” Valerius says rather abruptly. You hadn’t looked up at him or at anyone else for the last hour, instead staring at a spot on the table and willing all your concentration into keeping the portal open. </p>
<p>The suggestion is met with some bickering, but a few moments later, with a rare though disingenuous smile on his lips, Valerius cuts through it all. </p>
<p>“Close the portal, Magician,” he orders, calling to you from his place at the head of the table. </p>
<p>You can’t even voice your relief as your clenched hands relax and the mirror-like water falls back into a hollowed out chamber at the center of the table. It had been made specifically for the purpose of long distance portal calls as soon as you had arrived at the palace. In most cases, it was an invaluable tool used to communicate swiftly and directly, and it hardly took any effort on your part. Holding it for such a long time over such a long distance, however, was far from ideal.  You can only imagine that the Hjallean magician holding up the portal on their end is equally as tired as you are. </p>
<p>“With all due respect, Consul,” a whiny voice pipes up across the table. “If we had just held on a little longer, perhaps we could have won the argument.”</p>
<p>“Indeed,” a leathery noble to your left chimes in. “You are young, and being the first to end the meeting reflects poorly on your leadership.”</p>
<p>You dare to glance at Valerius’ reaction through the corner of your eye. If he were holding a wine glass as he so often did, you are sure that it would be very near to shattering indeed. </p>
<p>“Ten more minutes would not have yielded any more progress than the last five hours have,” he states calmly. “So I suggest we all get some rest and return with fresh spirits tomorrow.”</p>
<p>He says it with such finality that most of the lower nobles and the courtiers murmur some kind of an agreement and make to stand. The two offenders from earlier, however, will not leave without getting in the last words.</p>
<p>“This is what we get for letting a glorified <em>concubine</em> run the trade agreements,” the whiny one complains to the leathery noble just within earshot of Valerius. </p>
<p>“Indeed,” their companion replies. “The poor young thing must not know what it’s like to wait something out - he’s never had to suffer through that before, always getting what he wants when he wants it thanks to the generosity of the Count.”</p>
<p>They’re out the door before Valerius can respond, and though you are certain that he might have chucked the hypothetical wine glass at their heads, he merely remains standing behind his tall chair, white knuckled and waiting until all the other officials have trickled out. </p>
<p>It doesn’t even really occur to you that you’re still sitting in your seat, the only person to have not risen. Just the thought of standing up fills you with nausea, and you decide it best to just sit for a moment and focus on your shaky, strained breathing. It feels as though you’ve just stopped running a great distance. </p>
<p>“You looked like you were going to pass out,” Valerius sighs, drawing your attention. “And that would have been bad for negotiations.”</p>
<p>You can’t help but snort. “Oh how tragic.”</p>
<p>“Really,” he continues, a slight twinge of concern on his voice. “You look terrible.”</p>
<p>“Your attempts to flatter me have come <em>so far</em>, Consul.”</p>
<p>He smiles, a bit, and that single action is genuine enough to catch you off guard. You’ve never seen him actually smile, let alone at something that you yourself have said. It’s almost… handsome, in a way. You’re surprised at the thought, blaming it on your frazzled nerves and need for sleep.</p>
<p>“After all <em>that</em>,” Valerius says, gesturing to the now tranquil water and the empty seats of the delegation, “I find myself craving a tall glass of wine and some solitude.”</p>
<p>“That sounds nice,” you agree, leaning back in your chair and wanting much the same.</p>
<p>Valerius is quiet for a moment. He shifts his weight ever so slightly. “Would you… care to join me?”</p>
<p>You’re almost too shocked to reply. All the snide remarks, the exasperated gestures… you’ve been so sure that Valerius cannot stand you, even if it mostly comes across as teasing. Why on earth would he be asking you to be his drinking partner?</p>
<p>“Doesn’t solitude mean ‘alone?’ I’d hate to infringe upon your personal time, especially after a night like this…”</p>
<p>“Nonsense. I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want the company. And besides, you are a <em>witch</em>, after all. You hardly count as another person.”</p>
<p>You only realize just then that he’d addressed you as ‘Magician’ during the negotiations. Why he’s gone back to calling you a witch in private is beyond your comprehension, though it does start to sting a little, and the implication that your abilities seem to make you less of a person in his eyes is one barb that edges the line of acceptable. </p>
<p>That being said, Valerius is known for his excellent taste in Vesuvian wines, and it might be in your best interest to push the slightly offensive jokes aside and enjoy his selections for an evening. Judging by the look in his eye after the two nobles had made their comments, you get the strangest sense that perhaps he doesn’t want to be alone, either, that maybe you can excuse his slight rudeness just this once. </p>
<p>And so, standing up on admittedly wobbly feet, you agree.</p>
<p>Valerius strolls down the corridors at a casual pace, keeping his hands in his pockets and only making the occasional comment about the value of a particular statue or tapestry, altogether ignoring the rather obviously commissioned artwork depicting Lucio in various degrees of fabricated splendor. You grow a little more anxious as the walk goes on, wondering where exactly he plans on taking you. </p>
<p>He stops outside a tall, white door in a less occupied residential wing, opening it up to reveal a clean, simple lounge that connects to a bedroom further back. </p>
<p>It hits you like a brick wall as he steps inside that he’s taken you to his private quarters. </p>
<p>“I hope you don’t mind,” he drawls, reaching for a dark, wax-sealed bottle sitting innocently on an end table. “I didn’t feel like finding an unoccupied study. This is the only place I know I won’t be disturbed by some nosy courtier looking to chew me out on meaningless matters of policy.”</p>
<p>Valerius reaches down beneath the table, his hand emerging with two stemmed glasses. </p>
<p>“Were you expecting company?” You inch closer to the lounge, noticing that the simple fireplace is sporting some low lying flames. </p>
<p>“No,” he admits, sniffing the bottle after uncorking it. He frowns at the thing and extends it to you. “The servants know to place a bottle out for me in the evenings, but I had the suspicion that it would grow warm sitting out by the fire like this for so long. I know the meeting was taxing for you, but…”</p>
<p>You understand his silent request. Summoning up a bit of magic, thinking of winter frost and the feeling of jumping into a cold lake, you touch the bottle, letting the coolness of you transfer to it, stopping only when you notice a bit of ice forming on the outside. </p>
<p>Valerius raises an eyebrow. “We better not be drinking wine slush after that.”</p>
<p>“You wanted it cold,” you say, sinking onto a white, plush couch behind you. It’s barely worn in. Glancing around the living space, you find that nothing looks even remotely worn. Either the furniture has been very recently replaced, or it never sees much use at all. Nothing is dusty, though hardly anything in the palace is. There are no pictures on the walls save for some gray, abstract paint splatters that seem to have come with the place. No personal items laying about, no clothes. Nothing whatsoever to convey a personality. Even the few accents of gold in the otherwise gray and white room only hint at his wealth and good standing, nothing about his character. </p>
<p>Perhaps the only thing of interest in the place, you note while he hands you a generously poured glass of Vesuvian red, is a small, golden ram figurine on the mantelpiece whose ruby eyes seem to light up in the fire. It matches the brooch Valerius always wears, and you let your mind wander off to all the possible mystical explanations behind his apparent attachment to the animal. </p>
<p>“I don’t bring anyone up here, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he bites after a while. He’s sitting in a gray suede armchair, staring up at the ceiling with closed eyes, swirling the wine in his cup. The only sounds in the room come from the fireplace, low and crackling. </p>
<p>You take a sip from your own glass. </p>
<p>“Well maybe you should. It’s… nice up here.”</p>
<p>Valerius doesn’t even try and stifle his short, mocking laughter. “I suppose it <em>is</em> nice. There’s not much else that can be said about the place, though, is there?”</p>
<p>“It suits you.”</p>
<p>His head snaps to fix you with an accusatory glare. “Are you calling me boring?”</p>
<p>There’s a bit of humor in it, but behind a layer of doubt. You take another sip of your wine and cross your legs beneath you after kicking off your shoes, making clear your intent of sticking around for a bit. “I don’t think you’re boring,” you say. “All I meant was that the place reflects how you present yourself. Simple, straightforward. Uncomplicated.”</p>
<p>Valerius merely scoffs and shakes his head. “You must not know me very well at all, then.” He drinks again, deeply.</p>
<p>“Does anyone know you?” All the times you’ve seen Valerius, he’s been alone. None of the courtiers seem to really associate with each other, but least of all him. He’s younger than most of the other high ranking nobles, and yet his only companion seems to be his nearly endless supply of high end wine. And that’s never appeared to be an issue - you certainly never thought it bothered him before. Now, however, seeing him sit in that big, empty, unused room with a full bottle of wine that would have otherwise been his alone, you can’t help but wonder what he’s really like beneath all the annoyed looks and sarcastic remarks. </p>
<p>“I don’t think I’ve yet had enough wine to answer that question, witch,” he sighs, looking back at the ceiling. </p>
<p>To the contrary; his glass, you notice, is nearly empty. </p>
<p>So, you down the rest of your own, and reach over to the wine bottle to fill you both back up, earning a dark chuckle from deep in his chest. </p>
<p>“What?” you say, innocently. “It’s good. You have good taste.”</p>
<p>“Yes well, when you’re charged with balancing the city’s budget you might as well make a proper allotment for the one thing that brings you any happiness.”</p>
<p>Valerius winces as if he’s said too much, and stares at his wine suspiciously. </p>
<p>“Well surely you have other hobbies,” you smooth over, sipping from your glass to prove you hadn’t tampered with the drink somehow, if that’s what he‘s wondering. “Or are judging people’s fashion senses and calling them self-absorbed peasants part of your job description?”</p>
<p>“I invite you to my chambers and that’s the thanks I get?”</p>
<p>You smile, scrunching up your nose playfully in the process. Maybe it’s the wine, maybe it’s the lingering exhaustion mixed with magical after effects from holding open the portal, but you’re enjoying yourself, surprisingly. It’s something to do with the teasing, the building up of tension released by sarcasm and rolling eyes. </p>
<p>“I’m only giving you what you give me, Consul. You don’t seem to like my compliments and niceties, so I’m trying to dish out some of yours.”</p>
<p>“Do you <em>want</em> me to give you a compliment?”</p>
<p>“Would that be so difficult?”</p>
<p>Valerius studies you over the rim of his glass, the firelight dancing over the side of his face. His braid has come slipping forward across his chest, and now hangs over only one shoulder instead of across both. You could think of many things to say to him, but you wait, enjoying the struggle playing across his usually motionless brow. <em>That’s probably how he avoids wrinkles</em>, you think. <em>He just never moves his face</em>.</p>
<p>“You’re… different,” he says, the words clearly an effort. </p>
<p>“Yes, you’ve established that by reminding me of my shortcomings every time we meet.” Perhaps asking him to be kind to you was a mistake, at least in terms of using words. Sometimes a glass of wine, which you are suddenly very thankful for, can go a long way to show something like kindness, and it’s far less difficult to watch someone pour a serving than try and come up with something nice to say. </p>
<p>“No, I’m… I was unclear. I meant that as a compliment.”</p>
<p>“Yes, one of your many double sided-”</p>
<p>“Let me explain,” he interjects with shut eyes. “Please.”</p>
<p>You bite your tongue, cross your legs again, and warily gesture for him to go on. </p>
<p>“You’re different,” he repeats. “From the other courtiers. You’re here, like you said, on talent. I checked,” he adds, almost sheepishly. “And maybe it’s because you don’t have any other magicians to compete with for your position, but you don’t gossip or spread rumors as far as I can tell. You don’t claw your way up the ranks - tell me, if you got a pension tomorrow and were told to move out of the castle, what would you do?”</p>
<p>The abrupt question catches you by surprise. “I’d… probably just go back to working at the shop. Or go buy a cottage somewhere quiet, start something new.”</p>
<p>Valerius throws his hands up as if you’ve managed to prove a point. “Exactly. <em>Exactly</em>. If I asked any other person in that damned negotiation room what they’d do, they’d all say something like ‘join another court’ or ‘reconsolidate my power and get revenge on whoever stole my position.’ Hell, that’s what <em>I</em> would say.”</p>
<p>“Well, I’m sorry my ambitions aren’t-”</p>
<p>“That’s not what I’m implying at all!” he cries, very near to spilling his wine. He sets it down, rubs at his temples. “I… don’t understand you, how you can be content just by living some small, quiet life away from the public eye. How, if you were to lose all your power and your position, you would willingly go back to where you started - to nothingness.”</p>
<p>“I still don’t see how this is a compliment.”</p>
<p>The suffering glare he gives you is of the purest agony. “I. Admire. You. For. It. Even if I cannot figure you out for the life of me.”</p>
<p>You blink. Once. Twice. You’d certainly never expected <em>that</em> to come out of his mouth. </p>
<p>“Oh.”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>You look to the fire. Almost simultaneously, the both of you take long sips from your respective glasses. </p>
<p>“Do you…” you look down. “Do you frown upon your own ambition?”</p>
<p>A pause. “No… but it has led me to do… questionable things.”</p>
<p>“Like Lucio?”</p>
<p>You blurt it out before you can stop yourself, your thoughts dizzying in your head as much from embarrassment as from the alcohol. You feel that, should Valerius throw a wine glass at <em>your</em> head, it would be very much deserved. </p>
<p>“<em>That</em> is one questionable thing that has nothing to do with furthering my ambition whatsoever,” he says lowly. “If anything, it’s rather hindered my progress, what with all the incessant gossip it’s caused. I’ll be damned if I ever have a relationship again without scandal, even one as based in sheer boredom and physicality as that is.”</p>
<p>
  <em>Is, is, is, is. Not was, but is. Currently.</em>
</p>
<p>“Is that why you avoid people? Why your room is so featureless? Why you don’t let anyone get close to you? To avoid scandal?”</p>
<p>Valerius narrows his eyes at you as if trying to get your face to focus. “You notice too much.”</p>
<p>“I am a witch, am I not?”</p>
<p>“Does that offend you? Being called witch?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“It was supposed to.”</p>
<p>You tilt your head. “Why?”</p>
<p>“The name itself connotes duplicity, deception, temptation. Evil deals with demonic forces. Your official title is Court Magician. It seemed like a cruel derivative of the position.”</p>
<p>“No, I mean… why call me anything in the first place? Surely it would have been wiser to stay on my good side and not be on the receiving end of a curse.”</p>
<p>Valerius laughs, the sound low and unfamiliar, but not unwelcome. “Because I knew you wouldn’t curse me. You wouldn’t curse anyone - you don’t need to. People <em>like</em> you. I guess… I wanted to see what you were like angry. If I could make you angry. Find the crack in your armor, so to speak.”</p>
<p>“And why confess all this now?”</p>
<p>“Because I realize that you’d have seen through it anyway, the posturing I do. You saw through me on the night of the winter ball. Likely sometime before that. I’m rather pathetically trying to get you to trust me before you blather my secrets to half the palace.”</p>
<p>In the hearth, the fire is almost out, a few spluttering sparks remaining as the night climbs ever higher outside. A shaft of moonlight washes over the neatly made bed in the other room, drawing your attention before you snap it back in place. You don’t want to give the wrong suggestion.</p>
<p>“And why <em>did</em> you come to see me on the balcony that night?”</p>
<p>A bit of color rushes to his pale face, but you brush it off as caused by the wine. “It was more so that I was looking for a reprieve - <em>any</em> reprieve from the gossip and the stares and the whispers, and I saw you standing there alone and thought… that maybe I wouldn’t mind seeing you.”</p>
<p>“Because I’m different?”</p>
<p>“Exactly.”</p>
<p>Neither of you speak then, opting to focus on your drinks and the dying fire. Your eyes feel dry and heavy, and closing them seems like such a good idea...</p>
<p>A hand on your shoulder a while later, jostling you awake. </p>
<p>“Trust me,” Valerius whispers. “You do not want to be seen leaving this room in the morning. Go to your own, sleep if you can. Spare yourself the gossip.”</p>
<p>“Let them talk,” you murmur, trying to roll over into the back of the couch. You’ve always been a rather petulant, tired drunk.</p>
<p>That laugh again, stirring you further. </p>
<p>“While I appreciate that you are so ready to shirk the reproach, I really must insist. I won’t get any sleep if I’m staring at you on my couch all night.”</p>
<p>You squint open your eyes, glaring at him. Valerius has apparently gotten ready for sleep already, his hair brushed and loosely hidden down his back, light robes adorning his lithe frame. You catch yourself staring, and with a string of curses, sit yourself up. “So self absorbed, Consul.”</p>
<p>He laughs and shows you out, urging you not to stumble too loudly through the halls before closing and locking his door. </p>
<p>You make it into your own room, collapse in your bed after stripping off your clothes, and awake four hours later with a massive hangover and obligations to facilitate new trade meetings following breakfast. </p>
<p>Valerius arrives at the meeting looking refreshed. </p>
<p>You’re lucky if you can pass for tired.</p>
<p>Somehow, that seems to make him smile.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Hardly a Civilized Thing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Valerius provides some much needed cheering up :)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s been raining almost nonstop for a week. Usually, you wouldn’t complain. You’d have figured out at least 8 different excuses to let yourself go jump in mud puddles, claiming it was for “magical research” on a normal week, when you were feeling better. At the very least, your windows would be open, with you sitting beside them and feeling the licks of stormy, turbulent air reaching for your face. </p>
<p>This week, however, you can’t even seem to get out of your bed.</p>
<p>You’ve called in to Nadia, begging her to understand, to let you waste away your vacation days. You’d never taken off work before, but somehow, you find that you just can’t be bothered. The worst part is that you can’t even figure out why you’re so depressed. You’d said some embarrassing things at the most recent meeting, but no one was going to remember that in a month. No, the sadness you feel is caused by something deeper, some sort of sickness growing in the walls of the palace. You’ve never felt quite like this before, not in your shop or your cottage where there was always a friendly face to keep you alert, happy. It’s almost like being tossed into court life is akin to being dumped in the ocean without a raft - it leaves you tossing about the waves beholden to whims that are not your own, all the while struggling to breathe, to keep afloat. Without help, or guidance. </p>
<p>There’s a knock on your door - an occurrence which has become rarer as the week progresses. You assume it’s a servant with something to eat from the kitchen - Nadia typically expresses her support through gifts and kindness, the occasional tray of your favorite foods being among them. </p>
<p>So, you ignore it. The servant will enter on their own accord with excessive politeness, leaving the food and the room with great haste. You may or may not eat it, you can never tell if you’re hungry or not until you’ve stared at the platter for awhile.</p>
<p>The knock comes again, more insistent this time. Heavier. Authoritative. </p>
<p>“Witch? I know you’re in there.”</p>
<p>
  <em>Valerius.</em>
</p>
<p>Your surprise keeps you from answering. For the longest moment, you could swear that you imagined his voice. Tentatively, your magic reaches out. It’s a feeble effort, weak as you are, but you can clearly sense his presence on the other side of the door. </p>
<p>He knocks again. </p>
<p>“What do you want?” you manage to croak, voice harsh and raspy and unused. </p>
<p>“You’ve been holed up like a rat in a den for an entire week. There are things that you need to sign, treaties you must approve.”</p>
<p>You’d snort if you had it in you. There’s no way your signature bore that sort of importance. And if it did, why did he not just send the papers in with a servant? Why bring them himself?</p>
<p>“Look,” he sighs after you don’t respond. “Half the nobility thinks you’re plotting some sort of world-ending monsoon, what with you missing from all the meetings and this incessant rain. You’re making them all nervous.”</p>
<p>“I’m on <em>vacation</em>,” you bite. “Leave me be.”</p>
<p>“I do hope you’re decent, witch. As in, clothed. I don’t doubt you look like some half-wild thing, if staff gossip is to be credited.”</p>
<p>Stupidly, you’re about to ask why he hopes you’re decent when the latch on your door clicks and it opens with a soft creak. You have just enough time to throw the comforter over your head before he steps into view, though you can hear his disapproving tuts as he invades your space. </p>
<p>“Seeing as you lack a proper lounge area,” he sneers a few seconds in, “I’ll have to make do with the edge of your bed.”</p>
<p>You feel the dip of the mattress under his weight before you can put a stop to it, and you turn your back to him, still submerged in the covers, but now facing the windows instead of the wall shared by the grand hallway. You’re painfully aware that you haven’t cleaned your room in a while, that your scarves and accessories and random magical paraphernalia lie scattered about, rogue bits of jewelry glinting in the fading light. The opposite of Valerius’ private chambers, yours tell a story, a history. Betray your character. </p>
<p>“My, what a closed book I must seem for the difference in our rooms,” Valerius remarks, apparently thinking the same thing. “I don’t expect it matters though, only the servants are brave enough to enter your abode I assume. No lounge means no entertaining, so even if you are rather straightforward in your decorating, just as many people will see it as they do mine.”</p>
<p>“Are you implying that I don’t have friends?”</p>
<p>“I’m implying that after a week of you missing from their lives I’m surprised that no one has bothered to come looking for you yet.”</p>
<p>“They’re busy,” you huff, getting hot beneath the covers and wishing you had fresh air. Asra was away on an adventure of some kind and Julian was too occupied at the clinic to ever stop by. “And how would you know, anyway? Have you been stationed outside my door, waiting for me to blow up at the fool who dares enter a ‘witch’s abode?’”</p>
<p>“Something like that,” he admits. From the way his words stretch you can tell he’s smiling, albeit sardonically. “Although there’s been a distinct lack of any excitement from this room as far as I can tell. I can’t help but wonder if the witch’s powers are… lessening.”</p>
<p>“Piss off.”</p>
<p>“One might think you’ve lost it entirely.”</p>
<p>“<em>Go away</em>.”</p>
<p>“Indeed, reduced to a former shell of a-“</p>
<p>With a motion that is exactly as sloppy and uncoordinated as you expect it to be, you grab your nearest pillow and throw the comforter off yourself, swiping at the consul’s head in a large, dizzying arc which he manages to avoid quite easily.</p>
<p>“Ah, there you are,” he says all too cheerily. His eyes rake over you, your unruly hair tangled and stuck to your face with sweat, unwashed and uncared for. Your thin nightclothes, the undoubtedly dark circles beneath your eyes betraying your inability to sleep despite trying to do nothing else. “My, you really have been letting yourself go, haven’t you?”</p>
<p>“I’m tired,” you moan. “I’m not feeling well. I have no idea why you’re on my bed, and wearing…” you take in <em>his</em> appearance for the first time. He’s in formal wear, clothes that are a decent step up from his normal palace attire. Not masquerade levels of excitement by any means, but nice nonetheless. His own hair is in an annoyingly pretty braid. It dawns on you how long it must be in order to wrap around his shoulders so easily. “Why are you dressed up?”</p>
<p>He scoffs, though it is not without humor. “I suppose this <em>would</em> seem dressed up to you. There’s a function downstairs I’m meant to attend at some point. A boring thing, something about it being an equinox.”</p>
<p>You blink. Time has become meaningless in the week you’ve spent tucked away and moping. You hadn’t even realized that it is the spring equinox - something truly alarming as it is a chance for you to recharge your magical powers as the seasons grow. </p>
<p>“You are invited, you know, though I suspect Nadia withheld the card upon hearing of your… present state. Or you’ve just let it pile up on that mess of a desk over there.”</p>
<p>You don’t even need to glance at the corner desk strewn with potions and spell books to know that he’s right.</p>
<p>You flop back into your mound of pillows, fixing Valerius with your best glare as the mattress bounces him with it. He doesn’t have a wineglass to spill this afternoon, though had he gotten Vesuvian red all over your silvery blue sheets, you don’t think you would mind much. “Why are you here?”</p>
<p>He flicks a bit of dust from a billowing sleeve. “I don’t need to explain myself.”</p>
<p>“I thought you said you wanted to trust me.”</p>
<p>A wry smile. “I do. And I hope you can trust me when I say you are an absolute mess who needs to take a shower and pull yourself together.”</p>
<p>“Do you <em>want</em> me to hit you with another pillow?”</p>
<p>“I’d like to see you try,” he snickers. “Go ahead, prove me wrong. Best me in feathery combat, go take a bracing rinse. Prove to me that you are capable of being a civilized human for a night.”</p>
<p>The smug look on his face is utterly unbearable. You prefer his expressionless masks to the sneering, cocky raised brow, the curled lip. He reminds you more of Lucio, to be quite frank. </p>
<p>And gods know how much you hate Lucio. </p>
<p>With a flurry of sheets and pillows just as graceless as the last time you moved, you throw yourself off the bed and stomp into your attached bathing chambers, ignoring whatever remark Valerius makes as you turn the shower tap to a scalding temperature and climb in. Your amenities here are different from the massive bathing pools that rest in all the residential halls in the palace, consisting of a sink, a shallow bathtub, a toilet closet, and a mosaic tiled shower. You prefer the bathing pools, honestly, the ability to lie on your back and float around in the scents of bath salts or fancy soap. But this isn’t a time to relax, it’s a time to spite Valerius, to wipe that stupid grin off his face - to show him that you’re not some pathetic weakling who can’t take care of themselves or remember the date. You aren’t sure <em>why</em> you care so much, why his unperturbed attitude and flawless exterior gets under your skin.</p>
<p>You turn the tap off, your hands red and streaky from the heat and your scalp tingling from where you’d racked your nails through it messily to lather and rinse the shampoo. Your hair is no less tangled, but at least it’s clean. </p>
<p>You emerge into your bedroom not fifteen minutes later in a cloud of angry steam. Valerius is examining his nails, leaning against the bedpost. The bed, you realize with horror, has been stripped of its dressings.</p>
<p>“I had a servant take it to be washed,” he explains without looking up. “You’ve been festering in it all week. It wouldn’t take Valdemar’s knowledge to know that is hardly sanitary.”</p>
<p>You cross your arms, scowling at him. “I took the shower. You can go now.”</p>
<p>His eyes roam your dripping figure wrapped in a silk bathrobe. There’s something other than scorn in his gaze as it trails over you, but you’re too annoyed to care. </p>
<p>“The fact that you are now soaking wet and smelling like vanilla and citrus makes you no more civilized than when I first found you,” he retorts. “Did you even bother to brush your hair?”</p>
<p>“Well I’m sorry it’s not up to your standards, Consul. We can’t all have impossibly perfect, effortless hair now can we?”</p>
<p>His lips twitch into a smile again, though it’s not a mocking one. “Oh please, like most things about me, it too is a front. I’m rather meticulous about my hair, so trust me when I say it’s far from effortless, though it is rather perfect. I can demonstrate, if you’d be so willing.”</p>
<p>You aren’t sure what he means, but you allow yourself to be guided to your vanity nonetheless. He rummages around for a brush and some wide toothed combs while he pushes you into the backless, wide seat. You’re forced to stare at yourself in the mirror, to take a good hard look at what your ‘vacation time’ has made of you.</p>
<p>Your complexion has lost some of its life, replaced now by the splotchy redness from the hot shower. Dry patches of skin flake around your nose, your eyes look sunken and dull, and your hair truly is something atrocious. You’d laugh if it wasn’t all so sad. </p>
<p>“Rub this onto your face,” Valerius instructs quietly, sliding a gifted cream that you’d not yet tried across the counter. “Scalding showers are good for some things and not others. Delicate skin is of the latter category.”</p>
<p>You lose the willpower to argue with him. He’s clearly right - you do look disastrous.</p>
<p>You screw off the lid and are met with the faintest, powdery scent. Your fingers used to shooting sparks and friendly spells now dip into the cold cream, and you do as instructed, spreading small dollops over your unhappy face as Valerius starts to address the many knots in your hair, beginning at the ends and working his way up. </p>
<p>“You do have nice hair,” he remarks about halfway through. “I wish you’d treat it with more kindness.”</p>
<p>“I have other things to worry about,” you mutter.</p>
<p>“Like?”</p>
<p>You look at him through the mirror, at his carefully neutral expression. He keeps his eyes trained on the work in front of him, a skilled interrogator. Still, it isn’t like what you do at the palace isn't common knowledge, and you tell him as much. How the wards you’ve placed around the entrances require constant upkeep in order to retain their power, how difficult it is to come up with new magical policies when you don’t have anyone else with any experience whatsoever to bounce ideas off.</p>
<p>“The other magician, with the white hair. He can’t help with that?”</p>
<p>“Asra’s never here,” you sigh, rather sadly, in fact. “Besides, he’s not a very pragmatic person. I don’t even know if he understands the concept of money, really. I can’t imagine him doing well with running a city.”</p>
<p>Valerius tilts his head, working through a particularly difficult knot. He’s been ever so gentle, so patient with your hair. Typically you wouldn’t let anyone touch it, but you trust him not to hurt you, somehow. “Feel free to bounce magical policies off me, should you wish. I can offer some feedback if you want it based on my own experiences running a city, though I’m afraid I won’t be much help with the actual magic part of it.”</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t want to take up any of your time-"</p>
<p>“You wouldn’t be. Most of my time is spent posturing and drinking wine, anyway. It’s not like I have something better to do than listen to a witch’s rambles.”</p>
<p>A genuine offer dressed like a nonchalant insult. He certainly has a way with words. </p>
<p>Despite what he’s just said, you remain uncharacteristically quiet while he finishes with your hair, staring at the vanity top before you instead of either of your faces in the mirror.</p>
<p>“There,” he says after a moment, setting down the brushes. “Tangle free, if not still rather wet. You know you really shouldn’t do this sort of thing unless your hair is dry, but I doubt it would have made much of a difference just this once.”</p>
<p>You allow yourself a cursory inspection of your reflection. “I still look dead,” you drone. “Like someone tried to drown me.”</p>
<p>Valerius frowns, releases your hair. “Well let’s do something about that as well then.”</p>
<p>Before you can protest, he scoots you over on the wide bench that serves as your vanity seat before joining you on it, lithe fingers reaching for the stash of cosmetics strewn haphazardly about.</p>
<p>“You’re going to do my makeup?” You snort, eyeing him doubtfully.</p>
<p>He sighs. “Don’t look so surprised. Most of the courtiers enhance their appearance in some fashion. You and I are hardly the exception.”</p>
<p>He starts to get to work on you, and you’re too tired to really protest. You study his own face as he does yours, trying to find where he’s applied his own makeup. Impossibly perfect cheekbones, a sharp jaw. Slight golden shimmer on the highest planes of his face. It is subtle indeed, like a good magical glamour. You’d not noticed before - you’d never been close enough, never needed to study his face in good lighting. There’s a bit of liner in his lashes, a darkening agent that traces around his entire eye, bringing out the flecks of gold in his odd, ambiguously colored irises. You’d say the liner makes him look more relaxed, but somehow, you don’t think his mood has anything to do with his own makeup. His face is focused, certainly,  but at the same time, there’s contentment there. Release.</p>
<p>“Done,” he decides nearly forty minutes later. By now, your hair is mostly dry, shaped into its natural patterns by the air and your resolute stillness.</p>
<p>You’re almost afraid to look in the mirror, to find out that this has all been some cruel joke or that Valerius has smothered so much product on your face to hide your sadness that you've become unrecognizable.</p>
<p>When you do manage to steal a glance at yourself, you’re shocked by the normalcy of it all. Despite the cosmetics being applied in a hand other than your own, it bears all the signatures of you - your blending, shapes, colors.</p>
<p>“It’s as if I’d done it myself,” you marvel, tilting your head back and forth. Not a single stroke is out of place. The sad, melancholy person you’d been an hour ago is nowhere to be found, replaced, at least visually, by your normal, chipper self.</p>
<p>“I pay attention,” he shrugs, looking away.</p>
<p>“You must watch me like a hawk,” you murmur, a strange thought beginning to take shape in your mind like air bubbling up to the surface of a frozen, thick pond. </p>
<p>“You know,” his hand finds your shoulder, plays with the thin fabric of your robe. “It would be a shame to let all my hard work go to waste when paired with a set of pajamas. Or a bathrobe.”</p>
<p>You frown. “Oh?”</p>
<p>“And it’s not like you can crawl into bed anytime soon…”</p>
<p>“You want me to get dressed and go to the party,” you realize, turning away from the mirror to face him fully.</p>
<p>“Ah, is your mind finally functioning again? And here I was thinking you’d never catch onto my little scheme.”</p>
<p>You suppose that it would have been asking too much of Valerius to think that he’d merely come to cheer you up out of kindness. Of course there was some other motive, some reason for-</p>
<p>“Didn’t you say you had treaties for me to sign?”</p>
<p>Suddenly, your critical thinking seems to have rather hindered Valerius’ smooth demeanor. “Well… I - yes, I suppose so. But they can wait. After all, you cannot possibly sign them in a bathrobe. Think of the scandal if anyone found out.”</p>
<p>“Is that… are you blackmailing me?”</p>
<p>His look of shock is genuine. “While I wouldn’t put it past myself on some other occasion, <em>no</em>. Just get dressed, will you?”</p>
<p>A flash of memory returns to you, a similar instance with mud and rain and an equally flustered Valerius.</p>
<p>“Am I distracting you, Consul?” you say, repeating yourself from that earlier conversation months ago. Your rasp and tiredness make it sound more suggestive than you intended, and for a moment neither of you move. </p>
<p>“<em>Get. Dressed</em>,” he hisses, walking to turn his back to you and offer privacy. “We’re late as it is.”</p>
<p>
  <em>We?</em>
</p>
<p>With an exasperated groan, you get up, walk to your wardrobe, pull out basic undergarments and shimmy into them. </p>
<p>“And why exactly am I going to this stupid equinox function?” </p>
<p>“To prove that you aren’t plotting to bring down the court with a particularly nasty enchantment?”</p>
<p>“Why is everything about proving something with you?”</p>
<p>A long silence. “Because when is life <em>not</em> about proving yourself?”</p>
<p>You stall, fingers gliding over all the outfits you own, trying to think of what to wear - if you just give up and slip into pajamas will Valerius leave? Do you even want him to leave? That feeling from earlier creeps in again, the one you cannot place that has bogged you down all week, that churning in your stomach, the ache. </p>
<p>You grab a pair of silk trousers. They tie at your waist and billow out from your hips with the color of plum wine. A tight fitting, high necked blouse with fluttery sleeves and the back cut out, light and airy. Laced up boots - practical and fashionable and almost gothic, with pointy toes. Some jewelry in gold.<br/>
Valerius clears his throat when the shuffling stops, when you’ve dressed. You further your vanilla-citrus scent with a vile of perfume oil, and give yourself a haphazard once over in the mirror. </p>
<p>“Finished?”</p>
<p>“I guess so. Who knows if you’ll approve.”</p>
<p>A swish of his draping robes announce his slow turn around. “Just because I intend to bring you along tonight to help me scoff at the fashion choices of other snooty nobles doesn’t mean I intend to give you the same treatme-”</p>
<p>He stops upon seeing you, your awkward stance as you lean back against the vanity. You feel like some specimen under observation, every wrinkle of your clothes up for scrutiny. Valerius says nothing as he steps forward, examining you for the third time that night. “Turn around for me,” he asks softly a moment later, twirling a well-groomed finger. “Let me see you.”</p>
<p>Feeling a little silly, you oblige, shifting from foot to foot, rotating in place. Valerius’ face is soft when you once again can see it, and a bit of warmth flutters around in your hollow chest at the thought that you’ve managed to pass his notoriously difficult inspections. </p>
<p>“Might I make one suggestion?”</p>
<p>Your happiness falters. Of <em>course</em> there was something wrong with -</p>
<p>His hand reaches to brush your hair away from your open-backed shirt and your shoulder blades get hit with the night air, making you shiver. From his pocket, he produces an ornamental gold comb studded with diamonds, twisting your hair over one shoulder and using it to secure the style in place. </p>
<p>“A back like that should be shown off, don’t you think?” He meets your gaze in the mirror, steadfastly looking at you from behind. You blush, slightly, and are the first to look away. </p>
<p>A feather light touch trails down your exposed spine, and you shiver once again. </p>
<p>“Shall we go before the wine disappears and we’re left to forage for Golden Goose like animals?”</p>
<p>You snort. “Oh please, like I don’t know  you have a stash hidden somewhere for just that occasion.”</p>
<p>The party is nice, chatty. You get to blend in with the scenery as you and Valerius act as wallflowers, and on more than one occasion a particularly shrewd observation from him on a last-season hat or an ensemble poorly comprised of exactly seven slightly different shades of black has you covering your mouth to hastily prevent yourself from spewing out wine in laughter. Valerius himself doesn’t so much as smile throughout the duration of the evening, but he doesn’t leave you, either. Somehow, it makes you feel… better. You would have thought that any kind of socializing would be the last thing to bring you out of your depressive funk, but sure enough, watching people go about their business from afar seems to be doing the trick. It no doubt helps that you have someone to laugh with, someone to keep you company and refresh your wineglass when it needs refilling. </p>
<p><em>You’ve been lonely</em>, you realize just as Nadia’s eyes meet yours from across the room. <em>Not just recently, but for a while now - ever since you got into the palace, separated from Asra and Julian and any other friends you might enjoy the company of</em>.</p>
<p>“I’m so glad to see you up and well!” Nadia says graciously upon reaching you and startling you out of your revelation. “Are you delighting us with your presence once again tomorrow, or will it be another day of <em>vacation?</em>”</p>
<p>Her words are kind, her tone playful. She’s not chastising you or pressuring you to return. She misses you, perhaps, but only as a countess can miss a particularly good advisor. You wouldn’t call <em>her</em> a friend, per se. A coworker, someone you admire.</p>
<p>You feel another set of eyes subtly focused on you, gold and calculating. Valerius is probably wondering if he needs to barge into your room with another set of treaties tomorrow morning if only to avoid having to sit through tedious functions alone. You wouldn’t put it past him.</p>
<p>“Perhaps I shall,” you say slowly, letting your wineglass rest against your lower lip. </p>
<p>“I’ll look forward to it, then.”</p>
<p>Commotion at the other end of the ballroom calls all of your attentions, and you catch sight of a familiar blond shrieking about something  you can’t quite hear.</p>
<p>Both your companions roll their eyes, and Nadia excuses herself and walks quickly away in the opposite direction. </p>
<p>Out of the corner of your vision, you watch as Valerius fixes the boisterous Count Lucio with a look of scorn before downing the rest of his wine. Whatever relationship they may have or have had, there’s certainly no sentimentality there. </p>
<p><em>How interesting</em>.</p>
<p>Even more interesting, you later realize, is that the entire night passes by and no mention of treaties of documents needing your signature comes from Valerius. Indeed, no talk of business whatsoever.</p>
<p>You didn’t think he’d have it in him, but despite the cool demeanor and biting remarks, he’d been rather pleasant to be near.</p>
<p><em>Interesting</em>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Golden Hour Magic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hot, early-summer air wafts through the study windows, rustling curtains and pulling you into a sleepy haze. The fact that you’re sprawled out on a rather comfortable chaise isn’t helping the matter, nor is the incredibly bland, outdated decree on magical enchantments you’re trying and failing to read. It’s not quite sunset, not yet. The sun won’t actually disappear from the sky for at least another hour or so, but in the meantime, the world is gold, glittering. </p>
<p>The pen scratching behind you draws you out of your enjoyment. You glance lazily over your shoulder to where Valerius sits at the desk facing you but focused on the paper before him. You’ve taken him upon his offer in recent weeks, enlisting his help in pouring over old documents and categorizing what work needs to be done in order to strengthen Vesuvia’s magical infrastructure. Despite his efforts being aided by a glass of wine, he’s been helpful - remarkably so, even. What has been less helpful, however, is the memory of his fingers in your hair, on your face. Ghosting down your spine in the small of your back…</p>
<p>“What are you staring at?” he asks, dipping his pen in the inkwell without so much as a look in your direction. His tone isn’t laced with the malice it so often is, easing the mood between you in just the same way as his slightly undone-at-the-collar tunic.</p>
<p>“How uncomfortable that desk seems.”</p>
<p>“It is no less or more comfortable than it always is.” He draws a line on the parchment. “And you’re occupying the only other furniture.”</p>
<p>You look around sheepishly. A mishap with some red wine a few nights prior - which was <em>not</em> your fault - had resulted in the two normally present armchairs being taken out for ‘reupholstering.’ </p>
<p>“You can have it, if you want,” you say sitting up and suppressing a yawn. “I’m going to fall asleep if I lay here much longer.”</p>
<p>“Good to know you’re so dedicated to your work, though I’m hardly going to rip your seat out from under you.”</p>
<p>“We’ll share it then.” You pat the space next to you, swinging your legs down. “That way you can elbow me if I start to drift off.”</p>
<p>Valerius doesn’t say anything for a long while, and a bit of embarrassment at the subtle rejection creeps into your chest, mixing in with the tiredness and making for a whole lot of unpleasantness in the pit of your stomach.</p>
<p>Until you hear the resigned scraping of a chair against the wooden floor and slow footsteps drawing nearer. You watch with mild surprise as Valerius sits down a respectable distance away from you on the chaise, a document in one hand and his wine in the other. He looks very absorbed in his reading, though his eyes hardly move. There’s a stiffness to him despite his efforts to appear nonchalant, and you catch yourself staring at him once again. </p>
<p>“What are you reading?” you ask, your own document completely forgotten. </p>
<p>“How easily trade items can be magically duplicated and used to boost numbers, only to disappear a few hours after purchase and leave the buyer with less than they paid for, apparently.” He waves the testimonial at you briefly before returning to it. “Are there… ways to detect that?”</p>
<p>You think about it for a moment, pressing your lips together while you consider. “There are always magic-detecting charms, of course, though that only works on cargo that is decidedly unmagical, which, nowadays, is becoming more and more rare. There are traces of magic in everything from clothes and jewelry to certain imports of fish, so I’m not sure that would help. I suppose-”</p>
<p>“There’s such a thing as magical fish?”</p>
<p>The disbelief in Valerius’ voice makes you laugh. “There’s residual magic in certain fishing spots, and the sea life just sort of absorbs it. It makes for some interesting scale patterns, but most magic is benign enough not to matter.”</p>
<p>Valerius stares at you with a furrowed brow, and you remember how little he really knows or understands about magic - how little anyone at the palace seems to really grasp it. By no means do you hold it against him, but you can’t help but wonder why he ever offered to help you try and understand the decades worth of neglected magical policy in the first place, nor why he’d taken such an avid interest in seeing it all repaired. He’d never shown an interest in it himself; no doubt he has some greater scheme that you fit into somehow with regards to city planning. You figure you’ll just let it run its course and deal with being brushed to the side when it happens, though you secretly hope it doesn’t. </p>
<p>“As far as duplicating trade goods,” you sigh, returning to the topic at hand, “it might be best to just place fines on the act or some other kind of fitting punishment. A skilled magician can tell when something has been conjured as an illusion, so perhaps we could create employment at the dockyards, though there are so many ships arriving in a day that it’s hardly enforceable, and I suppose someone would have to train them all so that some sort of standard can be set. Even then, it would be difficult to police these things...”</p>
<p>You’re rambling, thinking out loud. You wait for Valerius to cut you off, to tell you how boring your magical jargon is, how it’s too technical for him to understand. But, as you continue, he listens aptly, asking brief, clipped questions when he needs to have something clarified. You feel… important, valuable, even. Respected for your knowledge, your power. He’ll make a suggestion, wait while you debate its worth and feasibility, and then offer something new based on what you’ve stated. He’s an excellent channel to help you fine tune your musings, and by the time the sun sits low on the horizon, you’ve actually managed to come up with a decent solution to the rather niche problem which involves you both - him with the trade part and you with the magic. Scattered papers line the floor by your feet, new decrees drafted on the backs of old ones, propped up against an old library book in your lap. A half-formed, tired thought tells you that you might prefer resting something <em>else</em> in your lap, but you don’t linger on it, not the way you do with the memory of fingers touching your spine-</p>
<p>“What does it… feel like?” Valerius asks, jostling you out of yourself once again. “Magic, I mean,” he clarifies, to your relief. You were briefly, irrationally afraid that he’d managed to develop the ability to read your mind. </p>
<p>“Well, it depends on the type of magic being performed,” you explain, shifting a bit in your seat. “And if the magic is intended to make you feel a certain way - there are euphoria spells, love potions. They do what they claim, when done correctly, of course. Healing spells feel nice, like… hot towels after a cold swim. Seeing a duplicated object - especially when it comes from thin air, feels wrong, like you have a head injury or something and can’t see straight but just in the one particular area.” </p>
<p>“Can a spell feel like nothing? Be undetectable?”</p>
<p>“Not unless it also involves an anti-awareness modification, and legally those get tricky because it counts as deceiving the receiving party, especially if it's a charm that targets one person specifically. Making a spell truly undetectable requires great skill and constant upkeep and moral ambiguity.”</p>
<p>He asks more about magic, trying to get you to describe different sensations - the difference between casting a spell and being hit with one. You keep trying to figure out where his sudden interest comes from, but for all your poking and prodding, you can’t seem to get him to admit anything other than genuine curiosity. </p>
<p>“I could just show you,” you realize. The sun has set by now, and the study is lit solely by a few dim oil lamps which only add to the lazy, sleepy evening atmosphere. </p>
<p>You extend your hand, silently asking Valerius to take it. </p>
<p>He eyes you, warily. “What tricks is the witch to play?” he asks with a nervous laugh. </p>
<p>“No trick. Just something simple - an orb of light. One of the first things anyone learns.”</p>
<p>Slowly, with great hesitation, his hand rests atop yours, still and stiff and smooth. You gesture for him to bring his other hand up to hover in front of yours, an action only accomplished once he finally lets go of the long-empty glass. You close your eyes, breathing in - breathing <em>him</em> in. You don’t slip into his mind, necessarily. You can’t hear his thoughts or anything, but you get a distinct sense of Valerius - the way he feels, he thinks. It's only for a second, just long enough for you to find the spark of innate magical ability in his core that resides inside all living things and stroke it to life, but you get impressions of him on your way there. The coolness of his tone, the strict discipline guarding all his actions, the incredible sense of self-restraint, and, deeper down, of a burning, nameless fear. Directed at what, you cannot say, but you don’t dwell on it, don’t invade his privacy. Instead, like breaching the surface of a lake after a deep dive down, you bring his magic to the brink of his awareness, channeling it into a golden orb that suddenly greatly reminds you of his eyes. You can feel it growing between your extended hands - your right raised like a solemn promise and his left as a response. </p>
<p>You hear him gasp, and open your own eyes to see the orb spinning happily in the space between you. </p>
<p>You’ve seen light orbs before, of course. They’re almost a daily thing for you, and lost their lustre long ago. <em>Valerius</em>, on the other hand, is an entirely new experience for you. Wide-eyed and focused on the orb, his full lips are parted, brows raised. His face is cast in the bright, warm light, and he looks softer, somehow. You’ve seen him smile before, only when the two of you are alone. You’ve heard him laugh, but looking at him now, the pure wonder in his expression once the fear and suspicion subside, you know that you’re witnessing something even more rare, even more genuine. You very much doubt if Valerius has ever let himself be seen in such a way, especially as the pure surprise only lasts for the briefest of moments before his face contorts itself into a more normal, less enthralled expression as though the action is a practiced reflex of his.</p>
<p>Slowly, you waver your fingers, subtly shaping and moving the orb. A moment later, he follows, his own graceful motions tugging the light like a magnet. </p>
<p>“And now?” he breathes once you still, eyes flickering to yours for the first time all evening and drowning you in their hidden depths. You sense that darkness in him again, still connected by your left hand holding his right. That despair. </p>
<p>“Take my hand in yours,” you instruct softly, planning to reabsorb the magic into both of you. </p>
<p>Like before, he hesitates, but you are patient, and soon enough his fingers weave tentatively between yours and the orb is crushed between your palms, seeping into your skin like sunlight and shivering down your veins, making them glow briefly before fading into normalcy. For Valerius, the magic will sink back down to the part of him he doesn’t exercise, that innate magical ability. For you, it rests just under your skin, shimmering around like something iridescent, always ready to see the light, to be cast out, displayed.</p>
<p>He shuts his eyes with a shuddering exhale, his left hand still gripping yours with a tightness you didn’t realize him capable of. Not enough to hurt, of course, but enough to ground himself, keep from floating away. </p>
<p>“And how did that feel?” you ask softly a moment later, playfully continuing your conversation from before. </p>
<p>Valerius just shakes his head, seemingly at a loss for words.</p>
<p>A knock on the study door interrupts you, and Valerius jolts away from your touch like you’ve shocked him. </p>
<p>A member of the staff informs him that his presence is requested elsewhere, to which Valerius responds with his usual snarl. You can’t focus on what is being said, however. You’re too intent on watching his chest rise and fall, too caught up with the feeling of his magic mixing with your own as it reentered your body. He says something to you that you don’t catch, exits the room hastily. </p>
<p>Somehow, your eyes find his forgotten wineglass sitting innocently on the floor, glinting in the rising moonlight which suddenly seems too pale, too cool in the absence of the warm orb. Despite the summer breeze, despite the scent of roses wafting in from outside, without Valerius sitting beside you on the chaise sharing your shared light, you feel strange, heavy. </p>
<p>Worse - you feel <em>cold</em>. </p>
<p>You stare at the wine glass for a long, long time.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Headaches</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The meeting with Nadia is going rather well, all things considered. You have a stack of notes prepared in nice, scrawling ink proposing some more magical changes to be made. The other courtiers sit around you, talking over their own documents and making suggestions at a long table. Nadia sits regally at one head and Lucio lounges at the other with one knee bent over the arm of his chair, looking incredibly bored.</p>
<p>“Procurator Volta,” Nadia says smoothly, turning away from Vulgora’s enthusiastically exclaimed desire to increase gladiator participation and attendance by using a lottery system to literally pit random wealthy nobles against each other in the arena (an idea which Lucio had wholeheartedly endorsed), “What are your current thoughts on the state of food imports? I’m told that reports of citizens going hungry are on the rise and I’d like to know how we can best remedy that situation.”</p>
<p>Blushing and fidgeting her delicate hands, Volta clears her throat. “I’ve not heard of such reports, M’lady. From my accounts, the citizens are doing just fine.”</p>
<p>Nadia eyes her suspiciously, but does not press the matter further, mostly due to Lucio’s sudden exclamation of wanting to do something else.</p>
<p>“Can I really be expected to sit through this meeting talking about <em>food</em>?” he groans dramatically. “Why can’t we talk about conquering kingdoms? I’m so good at that, right Vulgora?”</p>
<p>Vulgora enthusiastically agrees. </p>
<p>“Can <em>we</em> really be expected to sit through this meeting talking about <em>you</em>?” Valerius snaps, drawing your attention to his place at the right of Nadia. Things have been... a little off ever since you did the magic with him that day in the study. You’ve had no more late night chats, no more casual, caustic banter. Things had picked up in the last weeks - some diplomats from the Republic of Galbrada had come to visit and everything went into ensuring it went smoothly, which was no small feat where Lucio was concerned. It always seems to be nothing short of miraculous when those incidents go off without a hitch, a ‘miracle’ that requires a whole lot of work for everyone else involved. </p>
<p>You tell yourself that’s why Valerius has seemed distant - that he’s just been busy fretting over diplomacy. He really does seem to be the only functioning courtier, and much of the work falls to him whether or not it’s in his jurisdiction as consul because of it. He just doesn’t have time for you outside of when you work together, and that’s <em>fine</em>, or so you tell yourself. </p>
<p>Nadia raises a brow at his outburst, but doesn’t make to correct him. </p>
<p>Lucio, predictably, pouts. “I am <em>far</em> more interesting than whatever boring trade deals you have to spew on about from the rim of your glass, talking like you know everything.”</p>
<p>Valerius scoffs. “Yes, you would think that, if only because you know comparatively little.”</p>
<p>You aren’t quite used to hearing Valerius be so sharp, acidic. The tone in which he teases you is always playful, the contempt in it feigned. It’s almost jarring to hear it turned so cold on someone else. </p>
<p>“Shall we reconvene this at a later time?” Nadia suggests, shooting pointed looks between the two bickering men. When no one responds, perhaps out of stubborness, she glances at you almost pleadingly. </p>
<p>You look down at  your stack of notes, not having been able to mention any of what you’d carefully planned. “The changes I’ve proposed to some of our systems using magical additions require the focus and attention of all the members of this court,” you finally sigh, gesturing to the two empty seats where Vlastomil and Valdemar seem to have not bothered occupying.  “So if my efforts are better saved for another time, I suppose I can wait.”</p>
<p>Valerius stares at you incredulously. You try not to notice, feeling small and unimportant. </p>
<p>Nadia motions to adjourn the meeting with a heavy sigh, and Lucio is up a moment later, running out of the room with Vulgora and half-arguing the mechanics of the gladiator lottery, apparently pleased at the idea of rekindling the revenue lost after his prized Scourge of the South managed to escape a few months prior. Volta makes a tittering, half-mumbled excuse about something in the kitchens requiring her attention, and leaves you, Nadia, and a stony-faced Valerius.</p>
<p>“You put weeks of effort into those proposals,” he spits, gesturing at the papers before you. “You aren’t even going to fight for the chance to voice them?”</p>
<p>You shrink at the malice still lingering in his words, at the accusatory tone. </p>
<p>“Consul, our Magician is correct - the rest of the court was far from attentive,” Nadia states.</p>
<p>“Our <em>witch</em>,” he corrects. “Lacks ambition.”</p>
<p>You feel your stomach clench, freeze. All you can do is stare at him with wide eyes unable to hide their hurt. You’d thought he <em>liked</em> your approach to politics, that he <em>admired</em> you for your differences. </p>
<p>
  <em>What's changed? </em>
</p>
<p>Even Nadia looks appalled at his behavior, and as if he senses as much, Valerius shakes his head, rubbing at his temples. “Forgive me,” he drawls. “I have been nursing a headache for the last few hours and have finally run out of patience for niceties.”</p>
<p>Something like sympathy reaches Nadia’s face, but it does not run deep. “Then I suggest a trip to Quaestor Valdemar for a remedy.” She stands up, and you both notice the doubtful sneer that reaches his face at the mention of the absent court physician that everyone is far from eager to seek help from. “Or perhaps our <em>Magician</em> can fix you with something. I’m sure a simple spell won’t be too taxing, though an apology might be in order first.”</p>
<p>Nadia leaves you with the sound of her silk skirts rustling, closing the door on the way out. </p>
<p>You both sit in a hot, uncomfortable silence. “You haven’t spoken to me in weeks and that’s the first thing you say? That I lack ambition?”</p>
<p>He shifts a bit in his seat. “Don’t you?”</p>
<p>“I have enough to know when I shouldn’t spout serious ideas which will fall on deaf ears.” You rise, suddenly content to let him suffer through his headache alone. “I never thought that yours would fall into that category as well.”</p>
<p>You make it halfway to the door before Valerius mumbles something after you. You pause, let the sounds of your footsteps fade. “What was that?”</p>
<p>Behind you, Valerius thumps his elbows on the table, pushing against his forehead. “I’m. <em>Sorry</em>.”</p>
<p>You turn. “For?”</p>
<p>Valerius manages to glare at you. “For snapping at you. I... really <em>do</em> feel terrible. I took it out on you. And Lucio, but I refuse to apologize for that as well.”</p>
<p>Truthfully, he does look paler than usual, and a bit of sweat glistens near his hairline. You know he can manage a hangover better than anyone else, so you do believe him when he says he’s down for the count.</p>
<p>Maybe you should be more upset with him, more angry for his outburst and for the weeks of silence on his end. You could throw his apology in his face, storm out and give him a taste of his own medicine.</p>
<p>Instead, perhaps against your better judgment, you find yourself walking back to an equally surprised Valerius. You study him for a moment, debating whether or not to offer your aid.</p>
<p>“Do you want me to fix it?” you sigh, one hand on your hip and the other on the table.</p>
<p>He glances up at you with caution mixed in with the delirious agony in his eyes. “Can you really?”</p>
<p>“Yes. But not here.”</p>
<p>“And why not?”</p>
<p>You smile something that more resembles a grimace. “Because healing magic feels… different than what we did that last time. You’ll be down for a few minutes - I doubt you want to spend them slumped over at a random table for anyone to walk in and see.”</p>
<p>The notion seems to be as unappealing to Valerius as you had expected, and he begrudgingly leads you back up to his lounge after asking if it will suffice and making you swear that you would keep things as dignified as possible. </p>
<p>“Just think of me like a physician,” you instruct, trying to get him to lie flat on the couch you had occupied on your last visit. </p>
<p>“Somehow that doesn’t much help.”</p>
<p>“You’re going to fall over.”</p>
<p>He presses his straight spine against the back of the couch. “I will not. Just get it over with.”</p>
<p>“Valerius-”</p>
<p>“Are you going to help me or not?” he snaps, some of that anger returning. </p>
<p>You decide that you’d much rather not be on the receiving end of his temper any longer, so with a glower of your own and a faster than necessary motion, your hands fly to his temples, your thumbs pressing onto the center of his forehead. The tips of your fingers begin to glow, and you’re aware of his soft gasp as you leech away the pain, soothing his brow. It’s a simple spell - one that you’ve done many times on yourself and on your friends, though usually it's performed in far kinder circumstances and with a cup of honeyed tea to soothe the transition.</p>
<p>You burn the extracted pain into nothingness in the air as you pull away from Valerius, and as soon as you break the connection, his prone body sways predictably to the side. Despite your brief annoyance with him, you manage to catch him in your arms before he hits his head and undoes the spell you have just performed with an injury. He is heavy though, dead weight. It’s a struggle to get yourself on the couch next to him, and quite by accident, he ends up spread across your chest and pinning you in place, moaning ever so slightly and making you blush.</p>
<p>You have no doubt that he’ll be <em>thrilled</em> to wake up in your arms, but you can’t really see a way around it. Even if you <em>could</em> feasibly get him off of you, you can't find it within yourself to let him go. How often have you had this same vision come to you in hazy dreams where you played with his hair, murmured soft things as you held him close, listened to his voice? </p>
<p>You only have a few more moments of seeing him like this, utterly relaxed and enjoying the feeling of magical release. Giving into your wishes, just a little, you neaten his hair where it has fallen into his face, the shorter layers coming undone from the long braid. Your hand brushes against his cheek, and for the briefest moment, you swear that he leans into your touch. </p>
<p><em>You’re imagining things</em>, you tell yourself, a thought made only more believable as Valerius’ eyes blearily shoot open and stare at you in shock. </p>
<p>He jolts up, despite your protests, and sways a little from lightheadedness. Your hands find his shoulders again to steady him, holding him still and feeling each gasping breath as he tries to make sense of what just transpired. </p>
<p>“I said you’d fall,” you remind him calmly over his shoulder as he grips the back of the couch tightly. “I just caught you. Nothing else happened.”</p>
<p>Gods, there’s disappointment in that last statement. If Valerius weren’t so frazzled, perhaps he would pick up on it as plainly as you do.</p>
<p>“You… could have warned me that it would feel like <em>that</em>,” he breathes.</p>
<p>“Like you would have let me.” You watch with some satisfaction as he slumps in defeat. “You know, you’re awfully hard to talk to when you’re on edge.”</p>
<p>He pulls away from you then. “I can’t be everyone’s cup of tea.”</p>
<p>“Be someone’s glass of wine then,” you sigh, making to get up. “It suits you better.”</p>
<p>“Are you really leaving so soon?” </p>
<p><em>Yes</em>, because if you stay even a moment longer you really aren’t sure you’ll be able to keep your hands to yourself. </p>
<p>“You’ll be fine,” you say instead, shutting the door on your way out.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Garden Under Moonlight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You enjoy quiet moments at parties, you find, having sought refuge from the music and the dancing of the current revelries by escaping to a little garden bench. It isn’t a grand ball or anything, just a midsummer festival held under the warm stars twinkling above. You’re reminded of another night, another party. A much more formal one. Somehow, you find the small gathering more stifling. At least in the winter ball you were able to slip away unnoticed, to blend amongst the crowds as no more than an observer. </p>
<p>Perhaps it’s the fact that you’ve been around longer by now, more people know your name, your position. Want to ask you about remedies for the flu (Valdemar’s expertise) or if you know how to fly (a work in progress.) Since the gathering is smaller, it is harder to slip away. Asra had made an appearance, and so had Julian, and both of them had managed to find Nadia and drag her off on their own nightly adventure. You don’t fault them for forgetting you - after all, they are such tightly knit friends, and with their wildly different occupations, they don’t see each other much. You don’t want to interrupt that, not with your gloomy attitude. </p>
<p>Because, admittedly, you <em>have</em> been gloomy. Not as much as that one week where you refused to leave the security of your bedroom, of course. You don’t have the vacation days to afford yet another stunt as much as you might want to nothing else. You’d be willing to risk unpaid leave if you thought that Valerius wouldn’t storm in and haul you out again to satisfy his own boredom, but as you can’t reasonably be sure, you’ve donned your party clothes - a regal looking blue velvet thing with gossamer, billowing sleeves - and put on your best game face, paradoxically trying not to think about the man who has been nearly the sole focus of your fleeting thoughts for well over a month. </p>
<p>Your champagne flute is mostly empty, and while the quality of it is superb, you find that you aren’t really in the mood. You dump it out into the grass by the foot of the bench and spin the crystalline glass in your fingers, watching both torch and starlight glimmering off its ridged surface. </p>
<p>You nearly drop it as a voice speaks up.</p>
<p>“I didn’t think that I’d be nearly so lucky as to find you alone tonight,” Valerius drawls, stepping into view. </p>
<p>You fight the urge to shudder at the smoothness in his tone, masking your longing with bitterness instead. “And what is <em>that</em> supposed to mean?”</p>
<p>Valerius tilts his head. “Did I not see your magician and that other doctor arrive an hour ago or have I finally had too much wine?”</p>
<p>The champagne flute continues to turn in your hands as you look away from him, from the gloating smirk across his face, his perfectly handsome, dressed up -</p>
<p>“Why do you care?”</p>
<p>To his credit, Valerius seems to pause for a moment. You can feel his eyes on you, studying. The grass is suddenly <em>very</em> interesting to you, and so you focus on that, counting individual, precisely clipped blades even when the bench shifts next to you and you smell Valerius’s faint cologne on the wind, snippets of what might be pear mixed with something warm you can’t quite put a name to. You don’t smell wine, and you realize that he’s approached you with both hands empty and in his pockets. </p>
<p>Gods help you if you’re both sober for whatever <em>this</em> is. </p>
<p>“I’ll be happy to leave if your solitude is self imposed,” he begins, voice mixing in with the night breeze carrying the sounds of the party along with tinkling wind chimes. “But I’d hate to think that you’ve been forgotten.”</p>
<p>You shrug, at a loss for any other action, and other coherent thought. For a long while, nothing happens. You wish you can say that it’s one of those happy, content silences, but you can’t. The space between you is charged, electric. Tense. You don’t know what he wants, if he’s just teasing you with his nearness, if he has any idea what effect he has on you. You just know that as much as you’ve wanted him to be close to you again, as much as you’ve resigned yourself to the fact that he just doesn’t feel the same way, you cannot stand him like this, this taunting, aching closeness.</p>
<p>You’re just about to make up some excuse to leave when Valerius clears his throat. Makes an effort. </p>
<p>“I never thanked you,” he says, pinning you to the spot. “For showing me what magic felt like, in the study. Or fixing my headache even after I’d treated you so poorly.”<br/>You blink. He’s staring straight ahead, just as equally engrossed in the grass as you had been mere moments prior.</p>
<p>“I thought I’d scared you away with all that.” You try to laugh it all off, to diminish the fear and anxiety you’ve felt ever since Valerius had started to withdraw from you. The loneliness creeping back in. </p>
<p>“You might have, at first. Though it was through no fault of your own.”</p>
<p>You turn to him then, finally, the confusion in you overcoming the trepidation, the urge to flee and stave off embarrassment. “Oh?”</p>
<p>Valerius turns just the slightest bit pink. His hands flex briefly, and then they find your left, as it is not occupied by the champagne flute. He holds it as if it is made of fragile paper while you suddenly try your very hardest not to breathe. “This,” he whispers, gesturing to where you’re joined. “<em>This</em> is... difficult for me. Touching you, like this.”</p>
<p>He’s still looking down. You can’t look away.</p>
<p>“I… I’m sorry?” </p>
<p>Valerius barks a hollow laugh, shaking his head as if he can’t believe the words coming out of his own mouth. Maybe he <em>has</em> had too much wine.</p>
<p>He lets you go. </p>
<p>“When you took my hand, in the study, I felt… I’ve never…”</p>
<p>You nod, sympathetically, trying to show that it’s alright, that you understand. Of course he’s dazzled by that raw power, the surge of electricity through his veins. A fleeting, wonderful thing that you’d gifted him cruelly for far too short a time and then ripped away again. That’s all you are to him, all you ever can be - a quick trick and a scathing remark passed along palace corridors when convenient. Forgotten, when convenient.</p>
<p>You clear your throat. “The magic, you mean. I know it can be a lot the first time, it’s-” </p>
<p>“<em>No</em>,” he stresses, finally daring to look you straight in the eyes. “I don’t mean the magic.”</p>
<p>You freeze.</p>
<p>Valerius swallows. </p>
<p>You watch his throat bob with the action, struck by how close you are on the bench, how quiet the night is around you and how loud your own heartbeat is. </p>
<p>He tries again. </p>
<p>“I’m not… a romantic person,” he says slowly, stringing his thoughts together. “The idea of wanting someone in that way is foreign to me. I never found it relevant, important. Efficient,” he adds with a sneer. “Hence why I gravitated towards Lucio, towards other random dignitaries who found their way into my convenience. Because there is no attachment there, in those fleeting moments before dawn, no... <em>intimacy</em>.”</p>
<p>He looks to your hand again, hovering in the air by your waist where he’d left it. His own hands grip the bottom of the bench, squeezing as if to bolt himself to the spot against his own will, his own better judgement. It's as if he doesn’t know what to do without a glass to hold, without a prop to feign the nonchalance that suits him so well. </p>
<p>“Valerius, there’s… I know what magic feels like the first time you do it. Maybe I went overboard with the orb, or the healing spell-”</p>
<p>Valerius looks at you with the most agonized expression you’ve ever seen. “<em>I am not talking about the magic,</em> witch,” he practically begs. “I’m talking about what happened <em>before</em> and <em>after</em>. Not <em>during</em>.”</p>
<p>Your heart leaps up into your throat. </p>
<p>
  <em>Surely, he doesn’t mean-</em>
</p>
<p>Someone shouts your name over the quiet night’s music, followed by a slew of muttered curses and snapping branches that makes you jump out of your seat and practically your own skin as you search for the sound. </p>
<p>Julian stumbles through a nearby hedge maze, his head peeking over the high shrubbery like a cherry-tinged maypole. </p>
<p>“Asra!’ He slurs over his shoulder, producing your closest friend from an adjacent shrub. “Look who I found!”</p>
<p>A few seconds of stunned silence on your end later, Nadia appears in a much more dignified manner behind the two of them, though not without looking rather embarrassed herself. </p>
<p>“Ah, Consul,” she says tightly. “Magician.” </p>
<p>There’s a bit of just-barely-held-back laughter hidden in her words. Her hair is down and blowing in the wind, her clothes still pristine as ever despite her having clearly been walking around in the darkened gardens. The smile on her face reaches her eyes, you realize. You don’t know if you’ve ever seen the Countess look so at peace in all the time that you have known her. </p>
<p>“Would you believe it if I told you I got our friends lost in my own hedge maze?” She giggles, leaning into you as if sharing a great secret. </p>
<p>“We were not <em>lost</em>,” Julian bellows indignantly. “I knew where we were going the entire time!”</p>
<p>Shaking his head, Asra untangles himself from Julian, an easy smile on his lips before his violet eyes catch on Valerius still sitting behind you.</p>
<p>You don’t look back, and in fact move to cover his gaze. “Lost?” you tease, drawing his attention away from Valerius’ tender moment, grasping his warm hands in yours. “I thought you had a spell for that sort of thing, Asra. A charm for finding your way.”</p>
<p>He beams at you, lazily, and links his arm through yours. “I don’t need a charm,” he says. “I’ll always be able to find you in a crowd.”</p>
<p>Not one to be left out, Julian sweeps in and threads his arm through your free one just as Nadia snatches the delicate champagne flute from your fingers with a foresight that could rival any fortune teller you know. Julian’s momentum brings the three of you careening around into a circle, an improvised dance that sends you all dangerously close to the nearest flowerbed. </p>
<p>“Why don’t we rejoin the rest of the party?” Nadia asks, gesturing down the path with the champagne flute. “I think we’ve gone missing long enough.”</p>
<p>“Only if our lovely <em>Court Magician</em> feels like joining in on the fun as well,” Asra goads, taking the moment to emphasize your position, something that he has never hesitated to shout proudly from the streets, always telling you how deserving of the title you are, how talented, how amazing.</p>
<p>All his compliments almost make up for all the time he spends away from you. <em>Almost</em>.</p>
<p>You don’t quite remember what Valerius was saying, but you know it is important, that you can’t just leave him in the middle of -</p>
<p>You look back to the bench to tell him as much, but he isn’t there. Nadia, following your line of sight, merely shrugs. “He mumbled something about needing more wine.”</p>
<p>This earns a laugh from Julian, who decides that he <em>also</em> needs more wine, a notion which you, Asra, and Nadia all reject quite vehemently, and you allow your friends to lead you skipping back to the party, arm in arm with Nadia happily trailing alongside. At some point, Julian takes you off on your own and whirls you around on the makeshift dancefloor, his movement apparently less inhibited by the drink than his loose tongue. Asra watches you from the sidelines, cross legged and beaming, his hands supporting his chin, his elbows resting on his knees. In between spins, you catch glimpses of Nadia speaking to nobles, courtiers, dignitaries. You try to whip your head around as you twirl about, scanning for a long, golden tipped braid or a wine glass clutched in a distinctive grip, but all you do is manage to make yourself dizzy, and after thanking Julian for the ‘dance,’ you collapse next to Asra in a most undignified, uncourtly manner. </p>
<p>You listen to his stories for the rest of the evening, lying in the grass and staring up at the full moon above you. He mentions that he’s planning to leave in the morning for yet another adventure, and Nadia offers him a room at the palace in passing. Julian laments about work at his clinic, how there’s a new strain of what he thinks to be a minor illness popping up around some of the less wealthy Vesuvian districts. He’s soon shushed,however, for no one wants to think of sickness on such a happy night. </p>
<p>Somewhere in the distance, Lucio loudly scores a point in some impromptu lawn game he undoubtedly organized out of boredom, and all seems as if it is right. <br/>Except for you, that is. Maybe it’s due to your relative clearheadedness compared to your companions, or the fact that Valerius’ touch still lingers on your skin, but you can’t help but think that this will all be over tomorrow. You and your friends will return to your own, normal lives away from each other and tonight will seem like a passing dream. Asra and Julian will be gone, Nadia will be once again distant, cordial. You will be alone. </p>
<p>That is, unless you can manage to find Valerius before the night is fully over. </p>
<p>The moon sits low in the sky, the party’s clamor quieted. Asra and Julian are still in a heap on the grass beside you, and you manage to wrench yourself out of their sleepy grasps as you make your excuses to leave the party, making a mental note of their positions and deciding that the image is something you want to remember for a long time to come. </p>
<p>You enter through the garden doors, the same ones you had trailed mud in all those months ago. You pass the study Valerius and you frequent, your notes on magical policy neatly tucked away in desk drawers to which you alone hold the key. The palace is silent, the servants asleep. You pass meeting halls, mermaid statues, expensive tapestries. You don’t venture down to the wine cellars - not <em>yet</em>, anyway. That will prove to be a last resort if you don’t find Valerius in any of the other usual places. </p>
<p>You climb yet another set of stairs, and the palace quiets even further. No sounds from outside reach this far up - a floor above where your own room is located. You meander to the east wing, surprised at how well you remember the way to your next spot. You’ve only been to Valerius’ room a handful of times, each of which was led by him. </p>
<p>You must have paid more attention than you realized.</p>
<p>Soon enough and yet far too quickly, you reach the familiar tall pale door. Firelight just barely seeps through the door’s cracks, bright and lively. You raise your hand, wait a moment, considering. The worst thing that can happen is that he turns you away. </p>
<p>You knock, three sharp taps of your knuckles. It isn’t the distinctive servant’s knock, and not at this hour, anyway.</p>
<p>It only occurs to you that Valerius might be sleeping <em>after</em> you’ve knocked, and you’d feel terrible for waking him, but to your relief, you hear shuffling footsteps near the door. The handle jerks a bit, as if a hand has been placed on the other side, but does not move to open.</p>
<p>“<em>Yes</em>?”</p>
<p>He sounds <em>awful</em>.</p>
<p>“Valerius?”</p>
<p>“Who else would it be?” He scoffs. “It’s <em>my</em> room.”</p>
<p>You set aside any indignation his tone might give you. “Can I talk to you?”</p>
<p>A long silence. “It’s far too late in the day for conversation. Go back to your <em>friends</em> before they start looking for you.”</p>
<p>“Aren’t <em>you </em>my friend, Valerius? Can’t I come looking for you?”</p>
<p>The door handle bends, but then releases. You hear him take a few steps away from the door and your heart sinks. “Not today, witch,” he says in a way that is almost pleading. </p>
<p>It <em>hurts</em>.</p>
<p>“Maybe tomorrow then,” you say, dejectedly turning back a moment later, feeling empty and useless and somehow like you’ve failed him. </p>
<p>About halfway down the hall you take off at a run, not caring if you wake anyone up - you just need to be gone, need to leave before you barrel through that door and make Valerius tell you what he’d meant to. You don’t want to force something like that on him, no matter how much you want to know. </p>
<p>You make it to your room, turn off most of the lights. On a whim and out of some vague hope of feeling less lonely, you summon an orb again, remembering Valerius’ awestruck expression. The warm glow of it bounces off the gold and diamond comb he’d given you where it sits in a place of honor on your vanity. You stare at it for a moment, then bring it tenderly to rest on your nightstand while you undress, get ready for bed. You’ve often wondered where it had come from, if Valerius just had it lying around and thought you could use a morale booster. You’d never put much faith into the idea that he’d bought it for you, but after tonight, you aren’t so sure.</p>
<p>
  <em>What was he going to say?</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Returning the Favor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There’s a luncheon meeting among you and the rest of the courtiers the following day. Lucio of course doesn’t bother to show up - he can’t bring himself out of bed before three in the afternoon after a night of partying, and even Nadia looks a little tired herself, though still beautiful as ever. The rest of the courtiers all seem to be their normal selves, and you had taken great efforts last night to appear as your best self today. You’d summoned up an old sleeping charm to knock yourself out and banish all the worrying thoughts about Valerius alone in his bland, featureless room, and you are freshly showered and styled in fashions you know he’d like - warm grays and soft whites. The golden comb is in your hair, as if you need a reminder for what your purpose is. You also considered that morning when you put it on that it might spur Valerius into conversation as well, be an opening for him. </p>
<p>To your dismay and genuine concern, however, he doesn’t show up to the meeting, something that even Nadia comments on for its unusuality. You are so focused on his absence that you admittedly don’t pay much attention to the proceedings. It isn’t uncommon for the other courtiers to miss a meeting on occasion, but Valerius has never been absent as long as you’ve been employed at the palace. You have the strangest thought that perhaps he and Lucio are -</p>
<p><em>No</em>, you tell yourself, snapping back to the present. <em>Valerius wouldn’t miss a meeting for that</em>.</p>
<p>Would he?</p>
<p>Nadia makes her mention on the strangeness of it to you after the meeting’s end.</p>
<p>“He did seem rather out of sorts last night,” she admits, shuffling some papers in front of her. “Did he say anything to you?”</p>
<p>You try not to let any particular emotion show on your face when you answer “No.” Because he <em>hadn’t</em>. He almost had managed to get the words out, but ultimately, nothing had been said. </p>
<p>“Oh,” Nadia sighs. “Well he is a rather private person. I just thought he might’ve confided in you, what with your friendship and all.”</p>
<p>“You think we’re friends?” you blurt before you can register the words passing your lips. </p>
<p>Nadia merely raises her eyebrows. “Are you not?” </p>
<p>Admittedly, despite what you’d said to him through the door last night, you hadn’t put much thought into the matter. At one point you would have very much denied the statement from someone else’s lips if not from your own, but over the last few months, you’ve blurred the line on that one a bit. Valerius has grown on you subtly, like a storm that starts with harsh thunder but ends with soft rain against a window at dawn. You’d gone from mocking each other on the regular to… something else, something a little softer, if not increasingly more distant. Perhaps, if even Nadia can pick up on whatever bond you’d formed, it <em>is</em> friendship. </p>
<p>Why then, is that almost disappointing?</p>
<p>“Can I take these up for him to sign?” you ask, clearing your throat. </p>
<p>Nadia gives you a knowing smile and slides a few documents towards you. “A novel idea,” she says, slipping away. “Do send my kind regards to our poor Consul.”</p>
<p>You fight the blush rising up your cheeks and bolt out after her shortly later.</p>
<p>It’s good to have the documents as an excuse to go and see him, you think to yourself as you round yet another staircase. It keeps things practical, efficient. Cordial. But it also gets you into his bedroom again, which insinuates the possibly for more. After all, he’d barged into your room using the same excuse months ago - it’s only fitting that you should return the favor. It’s not like you actually have any intention of having him sign the things once you’re in anyway.</p>
<p>Still, you pause when you get outside his door, listening in a state of paranoia to see if he does indeed have a certain guest. Hearing nothing, you knock once more, your heart starting to race. </p>
<p>Nothing happens. </p>
<p>You knock again. “Valerius?” you call, hoping to strike a balance between shouting in the hallway and being loud enough for him to hear you. “I… I have some papers for you to look over from the meeting.”</p>
<p>You swear you can hear the tiniest scoff from inside, but it is followed by silence. You reach out with some of your magic, just to see if you can sense him on the other side. You find him almost immediately - a cold spot in an open room. Whatever is going on, he is far from happy about it. He feels distant, morose, even. </p>
<p>You remember feeling like that, and he hadn’t left you to suffer. </p>
<p>“You know,” you begin, withdrawing your magic and shifting to one hip. “I could just leave them on the floor out here and walk away, but that would be a breach of confidence. I doubt I’m even supposed to take them out of the meeting room. So you understand if I won’t leave until you come out here and take them from me. For security reasons, of course.”</p>
<p><em>Come on</em>, you think, you urge. <em>Take the bait. Come and play, tease. </em></p>
<p>An audible sigh. </p>
<p>And then slow, measured footsteps. </p>
<p>“You’re being rather official today, witch,” Valerius says with a scratch to his voice from the other side of the door as he begins to open it. “You know there are other ways of getting my attention than by inventing-”</p>
<p>Valerius’ gaze instantly falls to the papers in your hand. A look of genuine surprise crosses his face, but that’s hardly the most noticeable thing about his appearance. His hair hangs loose and long, flowing down well past his waist in a thick sheet over his shoulder. He’s draped a silk robe over the most casual clothes you have ever seen him wear, and beneath the surprise on his face, you see traces of exhaustion - dark bags under his unnerved, golden eyes, a slight dryness to his wine stained lips. He freezes for a moment, staring at your hands, before he schools himself into a more respectable position. He stops leaning on the doorframe, straightens his robe as he elongates his spine. His expression turns into that oh-so-familiar sneer, though there’s still a bit of hurt in his slightly red-rimmed eyes. </p>
<p>“You’ve actually brought papers for me to sign,” he flatly states at the exact moment you ask “Are you feeling alright?”</p>
<p>The both of you blink, and you let the hand holding the documents fall out of view as you inspect the man before you. </p>
<p>Valerius’ gaze doesn’t leave the papers, as if staring at them is the one thing keeping him together. “I was… unwell this morning,” he bites, each word an effort. </p>
<p>“Anything I can help with?” You sound too chipper, too happy. “I fix more than headaches, you know.”</p>
<p>Valerius seems like he doesn’t know what to say. He still won’t look at you.<br/>
How he ever managed to get into your room with such confidence and ease, you’ll never understand. </p>
<p>“I gave you a full week to mope,” he spits, finally looking at you. “You could have at least given me a <em>day</em>.”</p>
<p>“That was months ago. The rules have changed since then. Moping periods are significantly lessened.”</p>
<p>His head tilts. “Oh? And what precisely has caused that little development?”</p>
<p>Your eyes flicker between his, trying to read him, to feel him out. “You tell me,” you say evenly. “Preferably inside where we won’t be overheard or interrupted.”</p>
<p>Valerius takes an inhale that sounds almost like a hiss. “Nosy little creature, aren’t you?”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t satisfied with how we left things last night,” you admit, trying very hard not to look away. “In the garden, or… afterwards. I want to know what you were going to say.”</p>
<p>Valerius waves his hand, and when he speaks, the pitch is slightly higher. “You listened merely to the mad ramblings of someone who had consumed too much wine. I was drunk.”</p>
<p>“No you weren’t.”</p>
<p>Valerius blinks at you.</p>
<p>“And neither was I. I’m sorry that we got interrupted, and I did try and look for you afterwards, but you were gone. Forgive me if bringing documents is a poor excuse to have you see me, but I needed some way to get you to open the door.”</p>
<p>You smile at him, wryly, and something in his face changes, softens. He studies you for a long moment, and then after what feels like an eternity of waiting, holding your breath, Valerius silently steps aside, and grants you entry. </p>
<p>The room is still nice, still neat, but there are three empty wine bottles sitting on and around the lounge area, with a fourth that has been just barely touched. You’d make a joke about it being a rough night for Valerius if you didn’t know better. If anything, it sends a painful tug to your chest, a subtle bit of validation at your having not left him to stew in his own thoughts for even longer than you have already. </p>
<p>Valerius looks at the wine bottles with a frown, and for a moment, neither of you say anything. </p>
<p>You decide to switch the subject as you set the papers on an out of reach end table and resume your regular seat on the couch. Valerius sits towards the front of his favored armchair looking incredibly stiff and uncomfortable, and rather pointedly, not at you. </p>
<p>“I like the casual clothes, Consul,” you tease, genuinely. “It makes you seem less…”</p>
<p>“Intimidating? Cold? Aloof?” </p>
<p>“... I was going to say ‘serious.’”</p>
<p>“Oh.” Valerius eyes the fuller bottle of wine to his right, considering. “I didn’t think you’d actually come back,” he admits softly a moment later. “Otherwise I’d have put a little more effort into things. I’m not used to being seen like this. Nor do I seem to enjoy it.”</p>
<p>He gestures to himself, his loose hair. You’re used to him in all his finery, of course, but there’s something sweet about him like this, something distinctly more approachable. </p>
<p>“You’ve seen me at my absolute worst, Valerius,” you remind him. “I think this hardly counts as yours.”</p>
<p>He makes a noise halfway between a scoff and a laugh, and overall looks rather lost for what to say. You turn your head for a moment, wondering if you should light the fireplace to your left, when you hear a slight intake of breath. </p>
<p>“You’re wearing the comb,” he says, looking at it for perhaps the first time. </p>
<p>You pause for a moment, remembering. “Yes, though I’m not sure I’ve placed it correctly.” you give him a coy smile. “Would you care to adjust it?”</p>
<p>Valerius swallows. Slowly, after what seems to be a decent amount of deliberation, he rises. You make room for him on the couch, holding very still when he eventually joins you. His fingers, soft and deft, tentatively reach into your hair, holding it in place while he adjusts the comb. It scrapes against your scalp a little, sending a pleasurable tingle down your spine which makes you sigh and Valerius tense. </p>
<p>“Did I hurt you?” he asks, hands stilling. </p>
<p>“Most certainly not.”</p>
<p>His hands leave the comb, but follow through your hair, smoothing it as he had done once before, as if he’s hesitant to let you go just yet. You’re hesitant to feel him leave. </p>
<p>“Do you ever let people touch your hair?” you ask, still facing away from him. “I’m very particular about who does mine.”</p>
<p>Valerius pauses for a moment, and his hands fall from your hair, though he remains close to you. “No,” he says. “I don’t ever let anyone touch me.”</p>
<p>You can’t help but raise an eyebrow, remembering all the times that his skin has brushed yours, from his fingers trailing down your spine - a sensation you have yet to forget or replicate - to your hands touching in the study. </p>
<p>
  <em>Had that made him uncomfortable? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Have you?</em>
</p>
<p>He tries to clarify. “That is to say, I don’t let anyone touch me when it isn’t… when I’m not…”</p>
<p>“...being intimate?”</p>
<p>You’re both blushing absolutely scarlet. </p>
<p>“I think that might be grossly overstating things, but perhaps,” he mumbles a moment later. “If anything, I feel that… those touches, light and soft and… kind - <em>those</em> are far more intimate than what I do. They’re more difficult, more meaningful. Intentional. Terrifying.” He sighs, staring at his hands. “And I’m terrible at giving them. That’s what I was rather awfully trying to tell you last night in the garden.”</p>
<p>You’d almost laugh at his last statement if it wasn’t so serious. Every time he’d touched you, every damn time, it had felt like sparks of magic, of fire. “Valerius, I-”</p>
<p>“And then the magician came, and the doctor, and you clasped their hands so readily, so easily.” He stares at his open palms, clenching and flexing them stiffly. “And I… I realized how strange I must seem to you. Distant, even. Affectionless. Caught up in my own troubles of proving myself, of gaining power no matter the cost, the loneliness. How you could never possibly see me the way I see you because of it.”</p>
<p>Valerius stops as if he’s said too much, an act you’re all too familiar with from him. It happens any time he says something emotional, difficult. </p>
<p>Sometimes, it’s easier to speak with actions, with touch.</p>
<p>Softly, gently, your right hand reaches for his left, giving him ample time to move away before entwining your fingers through his. You do not miss the shaking gasp from him, the tensing of his shoulders. When he turns to face you, some of his hair falls into his face, slips past his ears. After a moment of studying his shocked, wondering expression, you reach up and brush some of it away, the back of your hand just barely brushing his cheek.</p>
<p>His eyes flutter shut, and his other hand reaches up to keep yours there. “I was wondering if you did that before,” he whispers. “When I had the headache and woke up in your lap. I thought I’d dreamt it.”</p>
<p>“Do you dream of me often?” you lilt, amused. You feel the heat rise to Valerius’ cheeks, and it is answer enough. “I can’t get your touch on my spine out of my head,” you admit quietly, moving closer, watching him intently. </p>
<p>“I hoped you’d enjoyed that,” he murmurs. “I wasn’t sure. I never am.”</p>
<p>“I did.” You let the hand near his face slip to his jaw, let it find his other hand. “I always enjoy you.”</p>
<p>His eyes open at that, incredulous. “<em>Really?</em> Even when I’m… being an ass?”</p>
<p>You can’t help but laugh now that the mood has eased. He always seems rather adept at making you do that. “Yes, Valerius, even then.”</p>
<p>“Well I could either have been an ass or incredibly, horrendously boring,” he considers, some light returning to his eyes. “And I couldn’t have you thinking I was the latter.”</p>
<p>“Need I remind you that I enjoy boring things?”</p>
<p>“I am quite aware of your fondness for mundanity,” he says, looking down at your hands clasped between his as if they aren’t real, as if this is all about to slip away. “Your love of rain, of flowers. Stars, I suspect. Moonlight. Dancing wildly in a gods-forsaken meadow somewhere with people who know how to make you happy.”</p>
<p>“My, you have been paying attention, dear Consul.”</p>
<p>He shakes his head, sadly. “It’s everything that I’m not. Seeing you yesterday, smiling and spinning so easily with your friends - your <em>real</em> friends, freely and without scandal or gossip or cursed, infuriating <em>ambition</em> and its resulting fear of failure...  I just… how can I possibly compare?”</p>
<p>You squeeze him, leaning closer still. When he looks up at you, his eyes are glossy, wet. </p>
<p>Your heart hurts. </p>
<p>“Violets remind me of you,” you whisper softly. “Rain against the window too. Stars at a party, moonlight in a garden or held in an orb between hands - <em>our</em> hands.” You pause, aware that he’s watching you but unable to meet him just yet. “I’ve yet to drag you through a meadow, of course, but… All those things do make me happy. Honestly. Now more than ever.”</p>
<p>This is when you should be interrupted. It’s when a servant should come knocking at the door requesting Valerius’s presence elsewhere, or when Lucio should start throwing a fit that steals away the mood. It’s when your other friends, the ones that have forgotten and neglected you more than you’ve realized, should come swinging in and steal you away. </p>
<p>But they don’t, and you and Valerius are left to stare at one another brimming with emotion and a sense of fondness that has only been sharpened by your touch, by the closest thing either of you are able to get to an outright confession of what you feel. Your words hang in the air, but it’s not in a way that leaves you questioning Valerius’ reaction, nor his reciprocation. There is no mask to be worn on his face, nothing to block the unwavering devotion shining fully in his eyes for the first time without restraint. He opens his mouth to speak, to reply, but seems to find all words inadequate.</p>
<p>So, he does the next best thing, or perhaps it is the superior option. </p>
<p>He kisses you. </p>
<p>A soft, fluttering thing that mirrors the jumping of your heart, your stomach. Tame, gentle.</p>
<p>But oh, it is so sickeningly sweet.</p>
<p>His hands, trembling, reach around your jaw, lightly pressing into your hair. He pulls away a moment later, watching you with the barest hint of concern, but it quickly fades when he sees your grin, the way you seem to be utterly glowing. Resplendent. Unwavering.</p>
<p>“Took you long enough,” you manage, bringing your hands to clasp around his neck.<br/>
Valerius laughs, and though, like the way he speaks, it is a quiet sound, for once, his accompanying smile reaches all the way up his face. He pulls you closer, pressing you to his chest and lightly resting his chin on the top of your head. His arms fall around you, hold you tight. </p>
<p>“That was the easy part,” he says into your hair. “That’s what I’ve been wanting to do since I saw you emerging from the rain like some half-feral forest nymph.”</p>
<p>“That long?” You might have suspected as much, but Valerius had certainly taken his time with things.  He merely hums, and you feel the vibration in his chest. “And the hard part?” you ask, almost timidly.</p>
<p>Valerius just holds you. One of his fingers trails down your spine again, though the effect is significantly lessened by the clothes you wear creating a barrier. </p>
<p>“The hard part is everything else,” he admits softly. “I meant what I said yesterday, that I’ve never been romantic, never seen the point in it.”</p>
<p>“...And now?”</p>
<p>“I’d… I’d like to try, if you’ll let me.”</p>
<p>Your stomach does a little flip. You feel Valerius still beneath you, waiting. Wondering. </p>
<p>“You might need to do a little more convincing, prove to me the honesty of your sentiment,” you tease, drawing away to look at him, at his soft, full lips. </p>
<p>They smile, but it is small, slight. Wanting to say more. </p>
<p>“If I do,” he begins. “Will you let me go slowly? Figure out all the things that are so new and strange to me before we get to what I know?”</p>
<p>Your fingers trace the line of his shoulder. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”</p>
<p>You start to lean back in a bit, let him be the one to close the distance.</p>
<p>“And… if it takes a while? You’ll… you’ll still want me? Even with the gossip and scandal it will bring once people find out? When your good name is dragged through the mud along with mine?”</p>
<p>“Let them talk,” you scoff, remembering saying something similar an eternity ago. “I’ve waited this long, haven’t I? You really think I’ll let a few prissy nobles or a few more months get in the way of enjoying you?”</p>
<p>“No,” he says warmly, brushing your cheek. “You are far too stubborn for that.”</p>
<p>“I’m glad we agree, then.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” he breathes, lips an inch from yours. “Most agreeable indeed, you tempting, wonderful, stubborn witch.”</p>
<p>Valerius pauses once again, studying you with the air of someone about to send a lover on a long sea voyage, as if he could never spend enough time memorizing your face.</p>
<p>“I think I could be quite happy like this,” he admits.</p>
<p>And with an almost crushing softness, Valerius kisses you for the second time that blessed, glorious day.</p>
<p>Nor, do you think as you feel him cradle your skull, will it be the last day of this kind. These tender kisses mark the beginning of many firsts. First dates, first dances, first adventures. All of which are things you hope take a long, long time to run their course. Things that you wish will never end.</p>
<p>After all - you have the rest of your life to feel this content, do you not?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you all so much for reading this/commenting/leaving kudos! Your kind words mean the world to me :)</p>
<p>I had way more fun writing Valerius than I thought I would, which begs the question: would anyone be interested in a sequel? AKA, me trying my best to write an in-game Valerius route that uses this story as established background? Let me know what you think &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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